


Fugue

by alanharnum



Category: Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 15:04:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13169436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alanharnum/pseuds/alanharnum
Summary: As I said in my author's notes back when it was originally released, this is more of a novella than a short story. Fugue deals with the Student Council in the aftermath of episodes 31 and 32. I look back on it and am generally quite satisfied; it doesn't have the narrative tightness or pacing of Chess or Sonata for Piano Duo, but sprawl can sometimes have its own appeal.





	Fugue

Shoujo Kakumei Utena

FUGUE

by 

Alan Harnum

Utena and its characters belongs to Be-PaPas, Chiho Saito,  
Shogakukan, Shokaku Iinkai and TV Tokyo.

This copy of the story is from my Archive of Our Own page at http://archiveofourown.org/users/alanharnum/pseuds/alanharnum.

 

Takes place during and shortly after Episodes 31 and 32.  
Spoilers for up until that point in the series.

* * *

ONE

* * *

 

He was in the bedroom studying when the doorbell rang. Probably  
Kozue, getting home from her date, wanting him to come down to  
the door so he'd be forced to watch the send-off; she'd done that  
before.

Miki frowned sourly, and stuck his nose back into the math  
textbook. No more, he'd decided, after his last duel--he was  
through with letting her control, through with letting how she  
chose to live her life choose how he led his.

The doorbell rang again, insistently. He closed the book  
with a slap and went to the window that overlooked the front  
door. He pulled the curtains wide, opened it, and stuck his head  
out into the night. He _knew_ it couldn't be anyone other than  
Kozue, this late; past ten, on a school night.

It wasn't Kozue.

He was apologizing even before he finished opening the door.  
"Sorry, Nanami-kun; I was occupied." He paused, looked her up  
and down, and blinked. "Hey, what's wrong? You look..."

Nanami had her school satchel in one hand, what looked like  
her gym bag in the other, and was wearing about the most hangdog,  
miserable, defeated expression he'd ever seen on her. "Can I  
come in?" she asked, in a tone of voice that made it clear she  
was expecting him to say no, and possibly release dogs to chase  
her away as well.

"Sure, sure." He moved away from the door. "You okay?"

She stepped inside, bent down and put her bags on the floor  
of the hallway, near the closet. He closed the door behind her,  
and stood over her as she took off her shoes, clasping and  
unclasping his hands.

After perhaps half a minute, when she still hadn't said  
anything, he coughed and repeated his question.

"No," Nanami replied. She straightened up.

Confused, but by nature inclined to be hospitable, Miki  
opened the hall closet and indicated the shoe rack, with slippers  
for guests placed atop it. Nanami put her shoes in one of the  
pigeon-holes, and took a pair of slippers. Then she picked up  
her bags again and just stood there in the hallway, looking small  
and lost.

"Hey..." Hesitantly, he touched her shoulder, half-  
expecting her to flinch away. She didn't. "Nanami-kun, what's  
wrong? Did something happen?" He studied her slack face and  
hollow eyes. A plethora of horrible thoughts about just what  
could have traumatized Nanami, who had always seemed close to an  
unstoppable force to him, began to swim through his head. "Do  
you want me to call your brother--"

"No!" she snapped. Then, quieter, "No... no, I don't want  
that." She looked from side to side; away from him, then back to  
him, then away from him again. Finally, she settled for staring  
at her feet, seemingly rooted to the hallway carpet. "Miki-kun,  
can I stay with you tonight?"

Though phrased entirely innocently, in an almost childlike  
tone of voice, it brought a faint blush to his face. "If you  
need to. But... won't you tell me what's wrong?" He glanced  
pointedly at the bags. "Have you run away from home?"

It took a moment for her to answer. "I guess so."

Miki touched a finger to his chin. The only thing that  
could have made Nanami leave home, and part from Touga, was...  
well, Touga. He knew--oh, he knew very well--that the President  
had been up to strange things recently, working in close concert  
with the Chairman; with the Ends of the World, the intriguing  
Ohtori Akio. For the Revolution of the World.

"Why did you run away?"

She scowled at him. "I don't want to talk about it."

Miki shrugged, and took his hand off her shoulder. "Okay.  
I'll be here to listen if you want to, though." 

After a moment, the scowl faded; she looked sad and lost  
again. "Thanks, Miki."

He put his hand lightly on her back, between her  
shoulder-blades--her back muscles, he noted, were tight with  
tension--and guided her down the hallway towards the kitchen.  
"Come on. I'll make you some tea; you look like you could use  
it."

He flicked the lightswitch on the wall as they entered;  
Nanami sat at the small kitchen table, and put her bags down  
on the blue-tiled floor beside her chair.

Miki got down the kettle from the cupboard and filled it at  
the sink. "This is the first time you've been to my house, isn't  
it, Nanami-kun?"

"I think so," she said uncertainly. "We don't really see  
much of each other outside of school, except for parties."

"True, true." The kettle had filled a little too full, and  
he poured the excess water from the spout; it swirled,  
spiralled, vanished down the drain. "Are you looking forward to  
the school festival? It's coming up soon."

"I haven't really thought about it," she answered. "You're  
going to play piano at the concert, right?"

"Uh-huh. I've been practicing." He placed the kettle on  
the stove, and turned the burner on high. "It's hard,  
though," he murmured. "So hard to find the right tone. I'm  
either too weak, or too strong."

"Looking for a mean, huh?" Nanami asked quietly. Then,  
before he could answer. "And I guess you're still playing with  
_her_ in mind, aren't you?"

"Yes," he answered coolly. "I'll play with whomever in mind  
I like." He opened the cupboard and looked over the boxed teas.  
"What do you feel like? I've got all kinds. Earl Grey, quite a  
few herbals--"

"Green."

He nodded, took down the box to extract the bags, replaced  
it. From another cupboard, he removed the blue-and-white china  
teapot, and set it down on the counter beside the stove with the  
tea bags in it. Then he took a seat at the table, across from  
Nanami.

"So," he said.

"So?" she echoed.

"Does Touga-sempai know you're gone?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I don't care." Each sentence  
dropped heavy and individually from her lips, like separate  
falls.

Miki almost sighed; he couldn't imagine what had her so  
upset, what Touga could have done or said that could possibly  
make Nanami flee home. "If your big brother knows you're gone,  
he's probably worried."

"I said, I don't care!" she snapped. Then, softer, "I don't  
want to talk about this, Miki."

"So, you just expect me to let you stay here, without  
giving me any explanation?"

She looked away from him, appearing very much as though she  
were about to burst into tears. The mild annoyance he'd begun to  
feel at her recalcitrance melted away in the face of concern;  
Nanami was his friend, he supposed, even though she could often  
be aloof and condescending, and sometimes even cruel.

"I just need someplace to go," she said in a small voice.  
"I won't be any trouble. Please."

Miki felt a dull, tight pain begin in his chest. He hated  
to see anyone, anyone at all, in such a state of sadness.  
"Nanami..."

She crossed her arms over her chest and bowed her head; a  
visible tremble ran through her body. Briefly, the thought  
crossed his mind to leave his chair, walk around the table, and  
embrace her--he didn't think he'd ever seen someone quite so in  
need of the comfort of human contact. But he wasn't a physically  
demonstrative person, never had been; even in childhood, he  
hadn't been eager to hug or kiss his parents, or to receive the  
same from them. That had been more Kozue's style. Nanami  
probably wouldn't even find it a comfort, from him.

Steam was rising in slow, lazy, fat curls from the mouth of  
the kettle. He glanced at Nanami, then pushed back and walked  
over to transfer the boiling water from kettle to teapot. Some  
of it splashed on the counter as he poured it; he tsked with  
annoyance, and grabbed a dishtowel from near the sink to wipe  
up the steaming patch of water. The thin towel turned painfully  
hot beneath his hands almost instantly, leaving him with a  
slightly reddened palm.

"Miki?"

He looked back as he hung the dishtowel back on the rack  
beneath the sink counter. "Yes?"

"Did you hurt yourself? You cried out."

"Did I?" He chuckled softly. "I didn't even realize that  
I did. No, I just scalded my hand a little; it's nothing." He  
walked behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, smiling  
down at her; she tilted her head back and twisted her neck a  
little to look him in the eye. "Listen, I won't press you any  
more. You can sleep in my bed tonight, in the room I share with  
Kozue; I'll take the couch in the sitting room."

After a moment, to his surprise, she put her head down on  
her shoulder, laying her cool, soft cheek against the back of his  
hand. 

"Miki-kun..."

He studied her hair; pale, fine. Almost, he took his free  
hand, the one her cheek lay not upon, and touched that hair;  
moved it away from her slim neck, away from her violet eyes.  
Almost.

"It'll be okay, Nanami-kun," he murmured. "Really, it  
will."

"It amazes how me how you can say things like that," she  
said, almost affectionately, and raised her head; part of him was  
sorry to lose the feel of her cheek upon his hand. "You really  
are the type who thinks things will work out for the best, aren't  
you?"

"Most days, I am," he said distantly, taking his hands off  
her shoulders. "The tea's just about ready, I think."

"Really? Has it steeped long enough?"

"I don't like it very strong. Do you?"

"No."

He removed the tea bags, got down cups, moved them and the  
teapot to the middle of the table. Nanami poured. They sipped  
in silence for a little while, and then heard the hallway door  
opening.

"Kozue's home," Miki said, rising.

"Oh? I was wondering where she was."

"A date," he replied shortly, heading out into the hallway.  
Nanami didn't follow.

"Welcome back," he greeted.

Kozue, who had just finished putting on her indoor slippers,  
favoured him with a brief glance. She wore a short black skirt  
and a tight, dark blue, long-sleeved sweater. 

"Did you have a good time?"

She smirked at him, raised her eyebrows slightly. "He was  
a boring conversationalist and a bad kisser. Draw your own  
conclusions." She breezed by him, heading for the kitchen; his  
nose wrinkled at the too-heavy scent of her perfume.

He followed. "Kozue, we have--"

She was already in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at  
Nanami with a vague frown. "What's she doing here?" she asked,  
glancing back at him.

"Hi, Kozue," Nanami said quietly.

"Nanami-kun's going to stay the night," he said firmly,  
daring her to take some issue with it.

Kozue's frown quirked into a kind of twisted smile; she  
looked from him, to Nanami, and back again. Then she laughed,  
softly, unkindly. "You two? I had no idea. Want me to sleep on  
the couch so you can have some privacy?"

"Don't be disgusting!" he said sharply, and saw Nanami  
wince--he wondered what he'd said wrong. 

Kozue rolled her eyes. "Sorry. I forgot. Company." She  
turned to Nanami, and said in a too-sweet, sarcastic voice, "It's  
so lovely to have you here, Nanami-chan. Does your big brother  
know you're sleeping over?"

"Kozue!" he snapped. With some effort, he forced himself to  
lower his voice. "Enough."

"Fine, fine," she said. "You've got to learn to loosen up,  
and relax, Miki. I'm only teasing." She brushed by him, arm  
and hip briefly touching his as she passed, and headed for the  
stairs. "I'll be upstairs if you need me."

After a glance to the silent, unresponsive Nanami, Miki  
followed after her, catching up halfway up the stairs and  
stopping her with a hand on her elbow.

She turned, eyes and expression conveying only disinterest.  
"What?" 

"Listen," he hissed, barely above a whisper. "Nanami is  
having some trouble right now, and needs to stay here, at least  
for tonight. She'll be staying in our room, in my bed; I don't  
want you to treat her badly, okay?"

"My," Kozue said languidly, "and here I thought the only  
girl you cared about was Himemiya-sempai."

He flushed; damn her for being able to do this to him, for  
always knowing exactly what buttons to press. "Nanami's my  
friend and I'm worried about her. That's all."

She resumed walking up the stairs, and he followed.  
"Really? That's all. I don't know, she's very pretty. Looking  
to gather a harem, are you? Who'll it be tomorrow, Himemiya and  
her roommate?" She smiled and looked back at him, hand on the  
knob of their shared room's door.

"Don't make me ill," he said, flushing even hotter at the  
images her words made rise, against his will, inside his head.

She shrugged. "I'm honest," she replied, opening the door  
with a creak. "And you hate that, because you've built your life  
upon all these lies, which you can see tumbling down around you  
even as you try and build them up again."

"I thought I saw some birds circling the house today," he  
said after a moment. "I think they might be the chicks' parents.  
They may come back for them soon."

She snorted. "You're still feeding them?"

"What, do you think we should just let them starve?" he  
said, scowling.

"The parents aren't coming back. Deal with it." She  
stepped inside, and closed the door behind her. Miki stood  
looking at the blank wood for a moment, then sighed heavily and  
headed back down to the kitchen.

Nanami was still at the table. It didn't look as though  
she'd drunk any more of her tea since he'd left. She sat  
slumped forward a little, elbows resting on the wood, teacup  
cradled between her hands.

"Sorry you had to see that," he said after a moment, hoping  
no visible trace of his embarrassment remained on his face.

"You and Kozue live here all by yourselves, don't you?" she  
asked, as though she hadn't heard him at all.

"Yeah."

"You're the older one, right?"

Despite himself, he smiled slightly. "Yeah; by about five  
minutes."

She raised her head and looked at him intently. "What's it  
like, having a little sister?"

His smile vanished; he sighed again. "Sometimes, you know,  
it feels like it's the hardest thing in the entire world."

* * *

She'd changed into her nightdress in the bathroom, the prude. As  
if what she had under that uniform was any kind of secret; the  
thing was practically painted on.

Lying beneath the covers, facing the window, Kozue smiled.  
It was priceless, in her opinion; precious little Nanami,  
running away from home in some fit of pique--probably thinking  
her brother had put a contract on her head again. God, how she'd  
laughed when she'd heard about that.

Nearly as priceless was the fact that Miki didn't see any  
significance in the fact that he'd been the first one Nanami came  
to for sanctuary. Naive as all hell, both of them; unable to see  
the motives behind their own actions. Then again, most people  
were like that, torn in so many directions by impulses they often  
tried to pretend didn't exist.

The door creaked; light from the hallway filtered into the  
room, shoving the darkness into the corners. She didn't move at  
all as Nanami entered and closed the door behind her, so that the  
gloom come down again in full; let her think she was asleep.

Feet moved lightly across the floor--tip-toe, maybe? That  
was courteous; Nanami was trying not to disturb her. Bedsheets  
rustled as they were pulled back; bedsprings creaked at the  
weight of a body.

When all was silent and dark again, Kozue spoke. 

"So, why'd you come here first?"

"What?"

"There's got to be some reason."

Nanami sounded a little guarded; in the darkness, Kozue  
smiled again. "It was just the first place that came to mind."

"But why did it come to mind first?"

"I don't know."

"Thinking about the reasons you do things you don't seem to  
have a reason for is the best way to get to know yourself."

"So do _you_ know why you do everything you do?" Nanami  
sounded dubious.

"Of course," Kozue replied smoothly.

"So, why'd you crawl out on that ledge to get those chicks?"

After a moment's silence, Kozue said, "Do you like my  
brother?"

"What? Of course. I can't think of anyone who doesn't."

"I mean, as more than a friend."

"Why are you asking me a thing like that?"

"I could help you, you know. If you do like him. You'd be  
better for him than that Himemiya Anthy girl."

"That's right," Nanami said. Then, she added, "Not that I  
do like him as more than a friend. I just think he needs to stop  
fixating on that girl; she's so weird." She giggled, a bit  
nervously. "But her older brother is cool."

"He's a remarkable man," Kozue agreed.

"Oh? You know him."

"I know him quite well."

"I just met him today." There was a dreamy quality in  
Nanami's voice; Kozue smirked. She didn't have any idea of what  
was coming for her, but coming it was, all the way from the Ends  
of the World, unstoppable...

"So, how do you really feel about my brother?"

"I told you, he's my friend." Now Nanami was annoyed,  
defensive. "Are you hard of hearing?"

"Come on, be honest with me," Kozue said unctuously. "Cute  
little sisters like us ought to stick together."

Show me your heart, pretty Nanami, and if I don't like the  
colour of it, perhaps I'll rip it out of your breast, red and  
bloody, and parade it around for the amusement of others.

"Goodnight, Kozue," Nanami said firmly; conversation was  
over. There was pause, then a sigh; hesitant, as though she  
were unused to it, and to what came next. "I'm sorry to impose  
on you and Miki like this. What's it like, sharing a bedroom  
with your older brother? Do you two talk every night, before  
you go to bed? That must be nice."

"No," Kozue said after a moment. "No, we hardly ever talk  
at all. Usually, we just go to sleep. Straight to sleep. No  
talking at all."

* * *

Kozue woke her the next morning, padding back into the bedroom  
after her shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel. Nanami raised  
her sleepy-eyed head from the pillow, saw blue towel falling  
away from pale curves, and simply closed her eyes again and lay  
back down, to wait until Kozue finished dressing.

She was so weird, that girl; not like her brother at all.  
What had she been thinking, asking those kinds of questions? It  
wasn't any of her business. Sure, Miki was nice--sweet, even--  
but he wasn't cool like the Chairman. Such a mysterious man, and  
so kind to his sister... Touga never would have sat around and  
let her feed him shaved ice these days... he'd have something  
better to do, or...

Well, he wasn't her brother anyway, so she didn't care.

Kozue was humming something, very softly; a pretty tune.  
Nanami heard her footsteps move across the floor, then pause.  
She was right beside the bed.

Nanami waited, scrunching her eyes closed and not moving.  
Perhaps half a minute passed, and Kozue still hadn't moved away.  
Unable to stand it any longer, she opened her eyes. "What?"

For a moment, Kozue wore the same expression she must have  
been wearing ever since she'd come to stand beside the bed--  
perhaps even before--and Nanami understood, with a kind of  
creeping terror, the real reasons behind Kozue's questioning the  
night before. And why she'd called herself a wild animal; as far  
as Nanami was concerned, in that moment, Kozue looked like she  
was about to bend down and sink small white teeth into her  
throat.

Then it was gone, and Kozue was looking, as usual, slightly  
disinterested in everything. "Oh. So you weren't actually  
asleep."

"No," Nanami murmured, resisting the urge to leap from the  
bed and run downstairs, screaming for help. "Why were you  
standing like that?"

"You're lucky, getting to sleep in my brother's bed like  
that." Kozue smirked; it was a very old expression for her young  
face. "Too bad he wasn't in it with you, hmm?"

Nanami just stared at her for a moment, then said,  
incredulously, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, nothing. See you." With that, Kozue left the room.

Nanami sat upright in the small bed, pulled up her legs,  
rested her arms on her knees and her chin on her arms. She  
realized she was blushing faintly; had Kozue seen that? Well,  
what did she expect, saying something like that? When people  
said dirty things like that, it brought pictures to mind just by  
power of suggestion, even if they were things you didn't ever  
think of by yourself.

She got out of bed, took up the bag she'd packed her  
clothing in, and headed out into the hallway to take a shower in  
the small, blue-walled bathroom of the house. As she passed the  
stairs, she heard voices rising from the front hallway, and  
paused to listen.

"Did you and Nanami-kun get along all right?"

"Just fine. Did you like sleeping on the couch? It'll be  
good practice for when you're a married man."

"Why are you acting so weird?"

Kozue's laughter drifted up the stairs like ugly black  
smoke, cruel like it had been the night before. "You and Nanami  
are a good pair. Neither of you can see what's right before your  
eyes, you're both so fixated on things you can't ever have."

"Kozue, what's _wrong_ with you? Hey--"

There was the sound of the front door opening, then closing,  
not quite hard enough to be counted a slam. Very softly, the  
sound of Miki sighing reached Nanami's ears. Footsteps; it  
sounded as though he could be heading towards the stairs. She  
hurriedly made her way towards the bathroom.

There was no way she could spend another night here. If it  
were just Miki, it would be fine; nice, even. They could drink  
tea together, and talk, get to know each other better. But Kozue  
was too weird, and too scary.

She showered quickly, then changed into her spare Council  
uniform. It was a little wrinkled from inhabiting the cramped  
space of her gym bag, and she smoothed it out as well as she  
could before the fogged glass of the mirror on the shower doors.  
If this went on much longer, she was going to have to find a coin  
laundry or something.

How much longer could this go on? She definitely wasn't  
spending another night here, but where was she to go? There was  
no way she was going to let a common bunch of girls like Keiko,  
Eiko and Yuuko see what she'd been brought to, running away from  
home. Maybe Juri's place... but she didn't know Juri in the way  
she knew Miki, and, to tell the truth, she was kind of scared of  
her... then again, at least Juri was a girl; she'd probably  
understand. And she didn't have a sister; that would be a plus.

Downstairs, she found Miki in the kitchen, buttering toast.  
There were eggs on a blue plate, a sliced apple and mixed  
berries in a bowl; a glass of orange juice, a glass of milk. A  
place set for one at the little kitchen table.

"Good morning, Nanami-kun," Miki said brightly, smiling at  
her as he set the toast down, and a pot of jam beside it. "Did  
you sleep well? I made breakfast for you."

She sat down, a little stunned. "Thanks. Aren't you going  
to have anything?"

"I ate when I got up."

"When was that?"

He checked his watch. "About two hours ago; I have to get  
up early, you see, to feed the chicks."

"Hasn't it been almost two weeks now since you got them?"

"Yeah, about that."

"And the parents still haven't come back."

He was standing at the sink counter, washing his hands, and  
she saw him flinch. "No. I'm hoping they will soon; I'm not  
sure how long I can keep on feeding the chicks like I have been."

"Maybe you should just call an animal shelter." She began  
to eat; the eggs had spices in them, and cheese. Miki was a good  
cook.

After a moment, he nodded. "Yeah. I'll probably do that  
soon." There was a defeated tone in his voice that she didn't  
like to hear. She would have said something, but her mouth was  
full of toast, and before she could finish chewing, the phone on  
the wall near the fridge rang. Miki quickly picked it up.

"Hello? Oh..." He glanced to her; she felt a sliver of ice  
trace her spine. "Yes. She's here; she spent the night here.  
She's fine. What? Hello? Hello?"

She was already standing as he hung up the phone, shoving  
back her chair so hard the legs scraped angrily on the tiles.  
"How could you?" she whispered; she felt as though she'd been  
punched in the gut. Betrayed.

He looked away from her. "I said you could stay here,  
Nanami-kun. I didn't say I was going to hide you from Touga-  
sempai. Whatever problems you're having with him, he's your  
brother, and you should try and work them out, not run away from  
them."

She almost slapped him, but held herself back; at her side,  
her hands trembled, balled into fists. "You... you..." she  
snarled, "you don't understand anything!"

"Of course I don't," he said quietly, sadly. "How could I,  
when you wouldn't tell me anything?"

She snatched her bags from the floor, spun on her heel, and  
headed towards the front door. Miki hurried after her and  
touched her shoulder as she reached for the handle; she pulled  
away from him, vision blurring. How could he do that? She'd  
thought he was a friend, a good friend...

"Nanami-kun!" he said. She yanked the door open; he  
grabbed her arm, tightly. "You can't just--"

"Let me go!" she snapped, painfully yanking free of his  
grip. She hurried out into the front yard; Miki didn't follow,  
but stood in the door, watching her as she left and chewing  
on his lower lip.

"Nanami, please," he pleaded, "what's wrong? Why did you  
run away from home? What happened?"

She didn't look back, wouldn't have had anything to say even  
if she did.

* * *

TWO

* * *

It rained that night, just a little, misting the window-panes,  
but the rain made her think of him; she expected that rain  
always would. Beneath the window sat a little table, and upon  
the table was a phone that almost never rang, and right now, she  
was standing before that table, looking out the window on the  
light rain falling on the city, the school, the world.

Juri touched her fingers to the cool glass, and drew a  
meaningless pattern in the condensation. Bach was on the stereo;  
the Cello Suites. An old LP on an old player, both brought from  
home. Rain on the window, and the deep-voiced cello. Music to  
relax to; to let down her hair to, before taking a long, hot  
shower, and putting on her nightdress. Old routines.

When the doorbell rang, she frowned sourly, even though  
she'd been expecting it. Miki had caught her at lunchtime and  
told her. She had her speech all prepared. Not my business; I  
don't want to get involved; you should face your problems, not  
run away from them, whatever they may be.

Nanami, standing in the doorway, with rain on her hair and  
face and uniform, looked small and bedraggled. The sad, hopeful  
expression didn't help either.

She steeled herself, even as the words  
("Hi, Juri-sempai...") were leaving Nanami's lips. "Don't  
bother. I know why you're here."

Nanami paused, blinked uncomprehendingly for a moment, then  
lost the hopeful part of her expression. "Did Miki tell you?"

"Yes."

Nanami stood there expectantly.

After a moment, Juri said, "Come in until the rain stops."

As Nanami entered, Juri was once again struck strongly by  
the wish that she could actually be as hard-hearted as people  
thought she was. Life would be far easier if she actually could  
not care about these kind of things.

"This place is a lot nicer than a regular dorm room," Nanami  
said, looking around.

"The school provides it," Juri said shortly. "Part of the  
privilege of being on the Council. I believe Saionji has  
something similar, although I've never been there."

"Oh." Nanami unlaced her shoes and looked around for a  
moment, apparently for guest slippers. Since Juri didn't have  
any, it was a futile search.

The clock on the wall chimed seven. Nanami put her bags  
down by the table with the phone that seldom rang. The First  
Cello Suite ended, the Second began. It was three hours before  
Juri normally went to bed.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked.

"Tea would be nice," Nanami said. She paused. "Miki made  
me tea."

"Why didn't you stay with him again?"

"He didn't tell you?"

Juri began to walk towards the kitchenette. "No. He only  
said that you'd run away from home, and might come and ask to  
stay with me."

"Was that all?"

She stopped, looked back. "No. He said I should call your  
brother if you did show up."

Nanami visibly tensed. "Are you going to?"

"I keep my own counsel," Juri said coolly. "Whatever  
situation you're having with your brother isn't my affair."

"A while ago, you said you were worried about what my  
brother's up to. What did you mean by that?"

Almost, she answered. She knew the truth now. But would it  
do any good? As before, there would undoubtedly be an order to  
these things. Saionji, Miki, herself; now Nanami's turn had  
come--she realized, with a sudden flash of insight, that it was  
imminent. And Touga must know it, and whatever he'd done to  
drive Nanami from him--because it had to be him, it had to be--  
would have been done with the intent of making her duel again.

"Just that he's back at school, but isn't coming to Council  
meetings. Knowing your brother, it's because he's found  
something better to do with his time." Yes; let Nanami take from  
that what she would, for the truth was in it, if she sought for  
it. But she would not, could not say more than that--some sense  
of honour, duty, dedication, prevented her, even though she'd  
realized some time ago that her part in these things was over,  
had ended with a breaking locket whose shattering set the heavens  
weeping. Or perhaps later, in the hospital corridor; or outside,  
looking back at the setting sun, remembering watching the sun set  
from their place, beside him--feeling, for a brief moment, all  
the long and treasured bitterness lift from her heart, as though  
hurled into and consumed by the sun, so that all that was left  
was a radiant glow, a hope and conviction that things were going  
to get better.

Then, so it seemed, her miracle happened. She heard  
footsteps; someone was pacing her, a few steps behind. And she  
paused, looked back. Shiori's words were, she suspected,  
indelible, even though she couldn't for the life of her remember  
her own responses. Hi, Juri-san. I looked for you at the  
fencing club, and they said you'd come here because a girl had  
been hurt. I wanted to tell you something. I wanted to say I  
was sorry. I acted like a real bitch, and all you were trying to  
do was help me. You know you were the only person who even came  
to see me? No one else even called. I thought I'd made all  
these new friends since I came back. But I guess I hadn't. Not  
the kind of friends like we used to be. Am I babbling? I'm  
sorry. I wish sometimes that it hadn't happened; it was all my  
fault. But I guess you can't go back, right? You've got to move  
on. You've got to let the old things go. And I've tried. But  
I'm sorry I split us apart. Anyway, that's all I really had to  
say. Goodbye, Juri-san.

She wished very much she could remember what she'd said in  
reply; she could remember only the generalities. It's okay; I  
understand. You were very upset at the time. That was a long  
time ago. I've moved on.

"Juri-sempai? Hello? Are you even listening to me? Hey!"

Juri coughed. "Sorry." She headed into the kitchenette,  
shaking her head. It didn't do to sink into reverie like that,  
around someone else; raised too many questions.

Nanami followed her in. "Hey, what were you thinking about?  
You looked really distant."

"My thoughts are my business," she half-snapped, putting  
water into the electric kettle and plugging it in. The ON light  
lit up as the coils began to heat. 

"Hmph. Fine." Nanami sniffed and leaned back against the  
doorframe. "This really is a nice place..."

Inwardly, Juri let out a long sigh. "You can stay one  
night. But you sleep on the couch. That's all I'll give you. I  
don't know what's going on..." But wasn't that a lie? She did  
know, or at least could guess. "...but I'm not just going to let  
you hide out here indefinitely. You need to face your problems  
instead of running away from them." Feeling especially  
hypocritical today, aren't you, Juri?

If there was any hint of internal conflict in her voice,  
Nanami either didn't pick it up or didn't acknowledge it. "All  
right. I'll find somewhere else to stay tomorrow."

"Are you simply intending to stay away from home and your  
brother indefinitely?"

"I'm not going home ever again." Juri half-expected Nanami  
to stomp her foot on the floor as she said it. "Never, ever,"  
she muttered, folding her arms.

Juri nearly rolled her eyes. "Of course."

"You don't think I'm serious?" Nanami said, sounding peeved.  
"I'm not! I'm not going home." She began waving her arms for  
emphasis and speaking so rapidly that Juri had trouble making out  
individual words. "Listen, I'm telling the truth, even if my  
brother showed up right now and--"

The doorbell rang.

Nanami froze, mouth open in mid-sentence, arms paused  
mid-wave. Slowly, almost mechanically, her head turned to look  
back towards the door.

"Stay in here," Juri said, moving by her to answer it. On  
the way, she reached out with her foot and nudged Nanami's bags  
beneath the table, out of casual sight for someone on the other  
side of the door.

She opened the door, and two thoughts hit her  
simultaneously:

One was, her hair looks lovely when its wet.

The other was, why this night, of all nights?

Close behind those two came: damn it, Nanami, couldn't you  
have chosen another night, _any_ other night, to come beg  
sanctuary from me?

"Juri-san," Shiori said (such a lovely smile she had), "I  
was running errands, and it got late; then I realized that I was  
in your area, and thought I'd drop by and say hello."

She was out of her school uniform, in a dark silk skirt and  
a white blouse, both a little damp with rain, and she looked  
absolutely gorgeous. 

"Hello," Juri said slowly. "I didn't realize you knew where  
I lived."

The smile somehow grew more appealing. "You're a legend.  
Everyone in the building is scared of you."

She laughed. Even though she did find it funny, it came out  
sounding forced. "They must think you're brave, to even come  
onto the threshold of my lair."

Shiori shrugged. There was a folded umbrella in one hand,  
dripping water on the hallway carpet. "I couldn't ever be scared  
of you, Juri-san. We were friends for too long." She paused.  
"Hey, have you had dinner yet?"

"No. I eat late." It would have been take-out tonight; she  
hadn't felt like cooking. "Why?"

"Want to go out? I haven't eaten either."

Yes, Shiori, I'd like to go out for dinner with you more  
than almost anything else in the entire world. "Sure. Just let  
me--"

Shiori's glance moved over Juri's shoulder; her smile faded  
a bit. "Oh. I didn't realize you had somebody over."

Almost, almost she turned around, and said, "I told you to  
stay in the kitchen!"; the words were on her lips, even, but then  
she realized the impression they would probably give Shiori, and  
swallowed them.

"Shiori, this is Kiryuu Nanami, the Proxy Student Council  
President. Nanami, this is Takatsuki Shiori."

Nanami, standing in the doorway of the kitchenette, smiled  
and bobbed a slight but perfectly polite bow. "Hi. Nice to meet  
you."

"Nice to meet you," Shiori echoed back.

"Nanami and I were just finishing off some paperwork for the  
Council. Right, Nanami?"

Nanami nodded immediately. "Yes; paperwork. For the school  
festival."

"I'm sorry to intrude on--" Shiori began.

"You're not intruding," Juri said, hoping it didn't come out  
too quickly. "Really, all that I had to do was give Nanami some  
files on the budget. They're in my bedroom. If you'd like to  
come in for a moment, Shiori..."

Shiori nodded, and stepped inside. Juri closed the door  
behind her, then headed for her bedroom, Nanami at her heels. As  
soon as they were inside, she closed the door behind her.

"Hey, isn't that the girl who went out with Tsuchiya-  
sempai?"

"Yes," Juri said shortly, and started lying. "Now,  
listen. She's an old friend of mine who I'm trying to reconcile  
with. It's inconvenient that you showed up tonight. The way  
we're going to work it is like this..."

* * *

"She's Kiryuu Touga's little sister?"

"Yes."

"Seems nice enough. Although, a bit odd, heading home  
without an umbrella, in this rain."

"I expect she caught a cab."

"Oh. Yes, they're a very wealthy family, aren't they?"

"Yes."

The light rain fell softly upon the canvas of their  
umbrellas, two droll rhythms, one for each. Shiori turned her  
head to study Juri in profile for a moment; still in her Student  
Council uniform, even though it was hours after school had  
finished. It wasn't that it didn't look good on her; Shiori  
merely wondered if she ever wore anything else, even outside  
school hours.

"I can't think of the last time we did something together  
like this," she said, moving her gaze ahead again. There weren't  
many other people on the streets; rainy evenings like this were  
times to be inside, with friends or family. 

"It would have been before you left the school," Juri  
replied. "We certainly haven't done anything like this since you  
returned."

"It would have been all three of us together, then."

"Yes," Juri said softly, after a moment. "How is he doing  
these days? Do you keep in touch?"

"I got a letter from him a few weeks ago. He seems well."  
After a moment, she said, "But, then again, people don't always  
say what they feel in letters. It's easier to hide the truth in  
those than it is face-to-face."

"That's true"

"I have his address, if you'd like to write to him..."

"No; I don't think that would be a good idea."

"It's up to you. But I think he'd like to hear from you."

"Perhaps. Where should we go for dinner?"

"I was thinking that beefbowl place we used to go. Cheap  
and good."

Juri smiled, a smile that Shiori remembered from when they'd  
been younger; it had been a real shock, to come back, and  
discover that Juri had changed from the most popular and admired  
girl in her grade to a cold, distant person whom people were  
afraid to be around. "I haven't been there in years." That  
smile, a recollection from more carefree days, was almost  
entirely the old Juri, and felt good to see.

"I went there with Tsuchiya-sempai once," she said, and  
watched the smile, as she'd expected, vanish. "I told him that  
it used to be your favourite place to go."

"Oh."

"He was in love with you, wasn't he?"

Juri stepped over a puddle that had formed in a depression  
on the sidewalk, then nodded. "Yes. I suppose he was."

"Then, he was just using me to get at you? As part of this  
Duelling Game?" 

"I don't know. Maybe. Yes."

She pressed on, past the lump threatening to form in her  
throat. "Why? What did he want the power of miracles for?"

"I suppose he must have had his reasons," Juri said  
guardedly. "But, I never heard from him what they really were  
before he left."

Shiori could tell that Juri wasn't saying everything, even  
if she wasn't exactly lying. But it wasn't as though she had any  
right to expect total honesty from Juri, after all she'd done.  
"He was someone important to you, wasn't he? There was something  
in the past between you; that was why you warned me, that he  
couldn't be trusted."

After a moment, Juri nodded. "That's right." She peered  
ahead into the misty rain, through which the dim shapes of the  
few other walkers on the streets moved like phantoms from another  
world. "I think we're almost there."

"Just about." Shiori closed her mouth and looked down at  
her feet briefly. Rain, glistening like jewels on the black  
gloss of her pumps. "How long did you go out with him?"

Juri stiffened a little; she was obviously growing less and  
less relaxed as the conversation went on. "It was never like  
that between us," she said eventually. "After you left the  
school, I threw myself into fencing like I never had before. He  
took me on as his protege; as his personal project, I suppose."

"But," Shiori persisted, "the two of you were never..."

"No."

They reached the restaurant, an old-fashioned little place  
with a big blue-curtained front window, half-opaque from  
condensation. They furled their umbrellas beneath the blue  
awning over the door, and left them hanging on the coat rack near  
the front. The place was barely half-full, with most of the  
customers seated at the counter; one couple, a boy and a girl  
whom Shiori faintly recognized from seeing them around the high  
school building, sat at a booth. She led the way to another  
booth, as far from the occupied one as could be. A waitress  
appeared with menus; they ordered green tea and sodas, and  
studied the menus as the waitress left to get the drinks. 

"I don't even remember what I used to have here," Juri said.

"The teriyaki beef bowl," Shiori answered automatically.  
Then, a bit embarrassed, she explained, "It's just one of those  
things that sticks out in my memory. You always ordered the  
teriyaki bowl."

"I don't remember which one you liked," Juri said, sounding  
a bit disappointed in herself.

"I never settled on one like you did. I think I'll have the  
Szechuan today; that was always good." They put down their  
menus; the waitress returned, deposited the drinks, took their  
orders, collected the menus, left.

"It was very much like before, you know," Shiori said, once  
the waitress was out of earshot.

Juri looked up from pouring tea for both of them from the  
little pot. "What was?"

"Tsuchiya-sempai. Just watching you watch him at the  
fencing club, I could tell he was someone important to you. I  
didn't really start to want him--more than all the girls did, I  
mean, he had even more admirers than Kiryuu Touga for a while--  
until I realized that he meant something to you." She raised the  
straw to her mouth and sucked up a little of the too-sweet lemon-  
lime soda. "Wasn't that horrible of me?"

For a little while, Juri didn't say anything at all. Then,  
a kind of comprehension seemed to dawn on her, and she said, "So,  
when I told you that you should stop going out with him..."

"I thought you were just jealous. Trying to break us up,"  
Shiori finished.

"First Ichiro, then Ruka," Juri said quietly. For a moment,  
she looked and sounded angry, and it was a beautiful sort of  
thing to see, like the wrath of an angel. "Why do you feel this  
need to compete with me, Shiori?"

"I don't even really know myself," Shiori admitted.  
"Perhaps I'm just a terrible person." She looked at her nails  
for a moment: short, neatly trimmed. "But, when we were kids, I  
always felt like I was in your shadow. And even today, when I  
think about how I am, and how you are... I feel like I hate you,  
sometimes, for being so good so easily."

The brief anger was gone, but Juri was frowning now. "I  
don't understand what you mean."

"Of course you don't," Shiori said quietly, unable to meet  
Juri's eyes. Saying the things she'd always felt out loud, to  
Juri's face, made her realize that they sounded small and petty  
and selfish. "Never mind. It's my fault, not yours."

Their food arrived, and they ate in silence for a few  
minutes. The atmosphere had become uncomfortable, defensive.  
Too many things had been said, after too long a time of living in  
two different worlds.

Eventually, unable to stand the only sound being the chewing  
of food punctuated by sips of tea or slurps of soda, Shiori  
asked, "Is fencing hard to get good at, Juri?"

Juri looked surprised at the question, then shrugged. "Like  
any sport--this is my opinion, mind you, and others may tell you  
different--it's not hard to pick up the basics. But it's hard to  
get good. It takes time, and a skilled teacher. Why do you  
ask?"

"I've been thinking of joining the team. Something to  
improve myself. Whenever I watched you and Ichiro fencing, I  
always wished I could do it too--it looked so cool--but I always  
thought, 'No, I wouldn't be any good at that.'"

Juri's face quirked slightly; a strange expression, eyebrows  
lifted slightly, mouth twisted somewhere between a frown and a  
smile. "Why would you think that unless you tried it?"

Shiori laughed, softly, a little bitterly. "That's what  
makes you different from me. You're not scared to try things,  
because you're confident enough that they'll turn out well. I'm  
not like that."

Juri flinched slightly. "You don't really know me well  
enough to say that about me," she said. "I wish I were as strong  
as you seem to think I am, but I'm not."

For a time, there was silence again. Shiori pushed bits of  
rice around the bottom of her bowl. Juri finished off the last  
of the tea.

"If you're interested in joining the team, Miki and I hold  
an orientation meeting every month. You'll get a chance to  
handle a foil, learn some of the basics. See if it suits you."

"I think I'd like that."

"You'd probably be good at it." Juri paused for a moment,  
then looked faintly perturbed. "There's no obligation to join  
after the orientation meeting. But if you find you like it..."

"I think I will. As long as I'm not absolutely horrible at  
it."

"You won't be."

They finished up what remained of dinner, called for the  
bill. When it came, Juri reached for it; Shiori quickly covered  
it with her hand.

"I'll take it. I was the one who invited you."

"Let's split it."

"No; I insist."

"All right."

Rain was still falling as they left the restaurant, and they  
opened their umbrellas to shield themselves. All the walking in  
the misty rain had begun to uncurl Juri's hair from its usual  
tight coils, making her look fetchingly dishevelled. They had a  
short distance to go together before they parted ways at an  
intersection of streets. They stood in a streetlamp's cast pool  
of light; that light, caught and refracted by the drizzling rain,  
seemed to surround them briefly in shifting curtains of fire.

"This was really nice," Shiori said. "I feel... better than  
I have in a long time."

"About what?"

"I don't know. Maybe everything." She tilted her head  
back a little, staring around the edge of her umbrella at the  
grey clouds overlaid across the star-filled night sky. "Where  
did Tsuchiya-sempai go after he left the school, Juri?"

For a moment, Juri looked so sad that she wished she hadn't  
asked the question, even though she wanted terribly to know the  
answer.

Then, Juri's expression softened to mere melancholy, and she  
said, "How much did he tell you about why he was away from  
school for so long?"

"Not much. Just that he'd been on sick leave, but was  
better now."

"From what I understand, he was still sick all that time.  
He left the hospital, even though he wasn't supposed to, and came  
back to school." Juri closed her eyes, sighed deeply. "I wish I  
didn't have to tell you this."

Shiori began, softly, "You don't have--"

"No. You should know. The exertions were too much for him,  
I think. He died shortly after he returned to the hospital."

Shiori found her mouth opening, but no words were coming  
out; they seemed to have spiralled down into some dark place  
within her. She raised her hand and covered her gaping mouth  
with it. There were tears in her eyes, suddenly; had Juri been  
anyone else, she thought that they would probably been in hers as  
well, but she just stood there, wearing a stoic mask that almost  
managed to cover deep grief. There were no other people in  
sight, and the misty light seemed to be everywhere. They seemed  
to stand in their own tiny worlds, bordering, but divided by  
boundaries defined by the edges of umbrellas.

"If he was so sick, why did he come back?"

"Because of me," Juri murmured, looking sick. "All because  
of me."

Awkwardly, impulsively, trying not to enmesh their umbrellas  
too badly, Shiori gave Juri a one-armed hug, head on her  
shoulder, arm around her back and reaching beneath the upraised  
arm holding the umbrella. Juri clearly wasn't expecting it at  
all, and for a moment seemed to have been turned to stone; she'd  
changed so much. Shiori remembered how warmly Juri had always  
used to respond to these kinds of physical affections, gestures  
of friendship, when they were very young.

Then, slowly, hesitantly, Juri's free arm crept around her  
shoulders and tightened, and she found herself crying against the  
cool, stiff white collar and soft, padded epaulettes of Juri's  
Council jacket. Crying, and desperately wanting not to cry,  
because hadn't he used her, and hurt her so much? Why should  
she cry for him? But the tears came on all the same, despite the  
rationalizations.

Juri didn't cry. Shiori wondered if she remembered how.  
And they stood there in the rain together for a long time, Juri  
holding her gently, she clinging to Juri and sobbing like a baby,  
wanting to stop, unable to. Was it always to be this way, with  
Juri being so strong, and she being so weak? She didn't think  
she could stand that; couldn't bear a rekindled friendship, if it  
meant having to be a guttering candle beside Juri's bonfire of  
strength and beauty.

"Don't cry, Shiori. Shiori, don't cry. Please." Barely a  
whisper, almost inaudible over even the faint sound of the rain  
breaking upon the canvas shields of their umbrellas; which,  
Shiori noted now, were canted a little too unevenly by their  
awkward embrace to provide full protection from the rain. 

With both regret and relief--strange, how those two things,  
in seeming opposition, could possess her in equal measure--Shiori  
broke from the embrace, slowly: move her arm; wait for Juri to  
move hers; one step back.

"I'm sorry," she said, still standing close to Juri,  
umbrella still held off-kilter so that the rain continued to soak  
through her skirt and blouse, making them cling to her skin; the  
sensation was not entirely unpleasant. "What you must think of  
me..."

The words fell away at the look on Juri's face. Haunted,  
sad, pained, and her eyes, green like the sea was sometimes  
green, were so wounded, vulnerable. There were raindrops all  
over her hair, which hardly curled at all any more. Shiori found  
herself lifting her free hand again; this time, perhaps, with the  
intent of touching that pale, perfect cheek, to feel tension and  
grief and unshed tears running below the surface like rivers  
underground. She couldn't say for certain with what intention,  
because she didn't really know herself, and the motion was  
arrested when Juri spoke.

"I wish I could be strong enough to show my feelings like  
that," she said, more quiet than the quiet rain. "You know how  
often I've thought, 'I should cry for him', and I haven't been  
able to? Even when I'm all alone..."

Shiori put her hand back at her side. "I don't think of it  
as being strong," she said after a moment. She finally adjusted  
her umbrella so that it covered her against the rain again; Juri  
had already done the same.

"I should get home," Juri said, quickly, and turned away, so  
fast her damp hair swung about and spattered loose raindrops  
against Shiori's face. "Thank you for dinner."

"Juri!" Shiori called, halting her before she could move  
too far away. After a moment, she looked back. "We should do  
this again." She managed to make herself smile. "Maybe without  
so much crying on my part the next time; old friends like us  
should get together."

"I'd like that," Juri said after a moment. She couldn't  
seem to look into Shiori's eyes. "Are you going to come to the  
orientation meeting? It's next week. Tuesday."

"Yeah. I'll be there. Goodnight, Juri."

"Goodnight, Shiori."

She watched Juri walk away for a moment, through the  
falling rain. Her stride was sure, her shoulders were set; from  
behind, she looked strong, unstoppable.

"You wish you were as strong as I think you are, huh?"  
Shiori murmured softly, still smiling. Then she turned away and  
went in the opposite direction. By the time she got back to her  
dorm, the rain had stopped falling.

* * *

No umbrella, not even a raincoat, and even though it was a short  
walk back to Juri's building from where they'd parted ways,  
Nanami felt soaked to the skin by the time she got back, with her  
hair plastered against her neck, shoulders and back like a dead  
animal's pelt. She let herself back into the apartment with the  
key Juri had given her, and stood for a moment in the front  
hallway, shivering and dripping water onto the floor,  
wishing faintly that she could retreat back into ignorance,  
pretend that everything was as it always had been, go back home  
and apologize to her brother, and he'd smile, and call her a  
silly girl for running way, but say that she was forgiven, and  
then he'd hold her, strong arms, but so gentle--

Scowling fiercely, she knelt down, causing her damp uniform  
to squelch unpleasantly, and violently removed her shoes--as  
violently, admittedly, as one could remove shoes. A rapidly-  
spreading pool of water was gathering at her feet. After  
glancing around instinctively--ridiculous, she knew she was the  
only one here, but the unfamiliar surroundings strengthened her  
natural fear of voyeurs--she stripped out of her clinging uniform  
and down to her undergarments. They weren't especially dry  
either, but she kept them on, bundled her uniform under her arm,  
and headed for the bathroom. 

The bathroom had a white-tiled floor, and a big shower, and  
a sink whose counter looked as though it might be real marble.  
She hung her uniform to dry over the top of the shower doors,  
then grabbed a big, soft, fluffy white towel from off the rack to  
wrap herself in. It felt so good and warm that she was almost  
able to forget all the unpleasantness of what had brought her  
here. She took her hair out of its usual coiffure so that it  
hung loose, towelled it dry as well she could, then headed back  
out and changed into her nightdress. She also retrieved a  
hairbrush from the little toiletry bag she'd packed.

As she zipped the bag back up again, her eyes fell upon her  
brother's cell phone. On perverse impulse, she took it out,  
turned it on, and waited, crouched down by the table beneath  
which Juri had shoved her gym bag.

Five minutes was all it took, at the very most.

//"Touga? Touga? Where are you? Didn't you get my note?  
You said you'd come to me, whenever I needed you... Touga..."//

She hung up, closed the phone, turned it off again. She  
had been able to think of nothing cruel to say in reply, found  
perhaps that she had no real desire to say any such thing. Then  
she put the dress on, found a comfortable seat on the couch (her  
bed tonight, apparently) and began brushing her hair. After no  
more than five strokes, she decided it was too quiet, and went up  
to the stereo. Juri, like Touga, seemed to prefer LPs, outdated  
though they were; her brother always claimed the sound was better  
than compact discs. The rich cello music that had been playing  
when she'd arrived--Bach, the label on the LP said--soon filled  
the apartment again. She took her seat, resumed brushing her  
hair. Eventually, she stopped feeling bedraggled as a dead rat,  
if not exactly presentable for a social function. Not that she'd  
be going to many of those in the future, having resolved never to  
return home again, which was where most of the social functions  
she'd ever attended had taken place.

She wondered if her parents were worried about her. Father  
probably didn't even know, he was almost impossible to reach when  
he was away on his business trips; Mother was probably just  
letting Touga handle everything, going out to luncheons and teas  
with her friends as usual. It wasn't as though either of them  
was used to seeing her every day anyway.

She put her hairbrush away, retrieved a magazine from her  
school bag, and curled up on the couch with her feet tucked in  
beneath her. It was a big couch, soft, comfortable. She'd never  
had to sleep on a couch before, but expected it wouldn't be all  
that unpleasant.

Moments after opening the magazine, she realized that she  
would probably never, ever have an opportunity to look around  
Juri's apartment without Juri being there ever again. She  
calmly closed the magazine and set it down beside her on the  
couch, then began after taking the LP off the turntable.

Nothing especially interesting in the front room, but that  
wasn't surprising. She pulled back the white curtains over the  
glass-fronted sliding doors to look out onto the small balcony,  
with filigreed iron railings. The rain seemed to be slackening  
a little. She pulled them closed again, and wandered into the  
kitchen.

Other than having a surprising amount of junk food in her  
cupboards for someone with such a good figure, Juri had an  
unremarkable kitchen. There was a tomato in the fridge's  
vegetable drawer that had definitely seen better days; she  
wrinkled her nose at it, closed the fridge, and headed for the  
bathroom.

The cupboard behind the sink mirror held the usual feminine  
assortment; no interesting prescription medicines or anything of  
the like. The cupboard under the sink had extra bottles of  
shampoo and other toiletries, spare towels, and an impressively  
expensive cordless hairdryer with a matched and equally expensive  
curling iron.

She hadn't really been expecting anything good until the  
bedroom, though, which was why she saved it for last. Everyone  
kept their secrets in their bedroom. She'd had a brief glimpse  
of it when Juri had pulled her in there after the friend had  
shown up. There was a dresser, a desk, a large bed, a free-  
standing lamp, a closet door.

She checked the dresser first, but Juri kept nothing  
scandalous or interesting beneath her underwear. A lot of it was  
awfully frilly, though; she had expected Juri would go for more  
utilitarian styles. The closet was similar, with a good number  
of tasteful, fashionable, very feminine dresses--then again,  
she'd always respected Juri's sense of fashion. It was nearly as  
good as hers.

The bed was neatly-made, and the tops of dresser and desk  
were clean and orderly. On the dresser was a framed photograph;  
four people, seated on the couch in a very nice living room. She  
recognized Juri easily; the photo looked to have been taken  
within the last year or so. There was a tall, good-looking man  
to whom Juri bore a strong resemblance, and a petite woman to  
whom she didn't bear much of one. Her mother and father,  
presumably. Finally, there was someone she guessed was Juri's  
sister; a few years older, pretty but delicate, not looking  
anything like Juri. She hadn't known Juri had an older sister.

There was a little bookshelf mounted on the wall above the  
desk, holding textbooks and a few novels. The novels all looked  
very literary and very boring, without a single mystery or  
thriller among them. She moved down to the desktop: the centre  
of it was taken up by a compact computer system, with notebooks  
for classes to one side, and a tray holding writing utensils and  
supplies to the other. Nothing interesting there, either.

Checking the desk drawers revealed nothing. They held extra  
notebooks, loose paper, scissors, a stapler, a hole punch. All  
the supplies a dedicated student and Student Council Member would  
need. Didn't Juri have anything _interesting_?

The thought occurred to Nanami that if Juri did have anything  
interesting that was easy to find, she wouldn't have let her  
go back to the apartment by herself. With a sigh, Nanami slid  
the final drawer of the desk closed. Then, on impulse, she  
pulled it open again and took out the stacked pile of lined  
paper.

"Jackpot." She grinned, and pulled forth the little velvet-  
covered box that had been hidden in the corner. It was of the  
kind used to store jewelry, but if it were secreted like this, it  
had to mean there was something good in it...

She opened it, caught a momentary glimpse of shattered links  
of chain and a flash of gold, and then heard the front door  
opening. Oh no, she thought, Juri will probably take this in  
entirely the wrong way. She'd thought she'd had the only key,  
but Juri had obviously just given her a spare. Or kept the  
spare. She couldn't say which, and it didn't matter. She had to  
hurry. The box was snapped closed, shoved back into the corner;  
the stacked paper followed. She hoped it looked even enough.

Juri called her name. Her footsteps crossed the floor of  
the front room, heading for the bedroom. She closed the drawer,  
stood up, and hurried to open the bedroom door. Juri was right  
on the other side, hand extended towards the handle.

"What were you doing in here?" she asked, eyes narrowing.  
The fact that she was dishevelled and a bit flushed in the face--  
probably from hurrying back in the rain--didn't make her look any  
less intimidating.

"I was looking for a pillow," Nanami squeaked. She  
indicated her nightdress with a downward sweep of her hands.  
"See? All ready for bed. That couch looks nice and comfy." She  
smiled and giggled in a manner guaranteed to win Juri over.

Juri started forward. Nanami moved aside to avoid being run  
down. Juri grabbed one of her bed's two large pillows and thrust  
it at Nanami, disarraying the neatly-made sheets as she did.

"A pillow," she said, as though it were a threat.

Nanami took it. "Thanks," she said, a little numbly. "I've  
never seen your hair like that. It looks nice. I didn't realize  
it was so long."

Juri grimaced and ran her hands through the damp length of  
it. "I feel like a drowned rat."

Nanami perked up. "Hey, I've got an idea--we could braid  
each other's hair! I bet you'd look cool with--"

"Nanami!" Juri said sharply, cutting her off.

"What?" Nanami asked, blinking and hugging the pillow to her  
chest.

"This isn't a sleepover, and I'm not one of the cronies you  
sometimes call your friends. Don't treat me like I am. Now get  
out of my bedroom. I need to change."

Wordless, wide-eyed, Nanami retreated back into the front  
room, closing the door behind her. Juri was so scary sometimes.

She settled down on the couch and opened her magazine again.  
The articles, the sentences, even the kanji, seemed entirely  
without meaning. She wished she hadn't gone snooping through  
Juri's bedroom. Juri knew, she knew that she knew, and she was  
angry now. 

The bedroom door opened, closed. Juri came up, a silver-  
backed hairbrush in her hand. She'd changed into a pale blue,  
ruffle-throated nightdress. Nanami moved her feet to the floor  
to give Juri a seat on the couch.

"So," Juri began as she sat, turning her head to the side to  
let her hair spill down over one shoulder for easy brushing,  
"what do you really intend to do, Nanami? You can't keep running  
forever."

"I can try," Nanami muttered. "I'm not going home, Juri."

Juri let out what might almost have been counted a sigh.  
"Look, Nanami," she said, "whatever's going on, you should face  
it." Her expression had softened considerably since the brief  
confrontation in the bedroom, and was almost tender now--a look  
Nanami had never seen on her. "Running from it will only make it  
worse."

"You can't know that," Nanami said, scowling. At Miki, she  
would have snapped the words, in an attempt to drive him into  
docile silence; that wouldn't work on Juri, though. "Why does  
everyone insist on trying to give me advice?"

"Because," Juri said, running the brush through her hair in  
long, even strokes, "you're acting like a foolish little child."

"Well," Nanami muttered, "maybe you ought to just spank me  
then, if you're so grown-up and mature, and I'm such a child."

Juri coughed lightly and turned her head a little so Nanami  
couldn't see any of her face at all. The brush sliding through  
her hair made a soft, pleasant, silky sound.

"You're right," she said after a moment. "It's not my  
business. Do what you like. You've already heard my terms."

"One night, on the couch," Nanami said.

"That's right."

Nanami opened the magazine and tried to make herself be  
interested in any of the articles. Fashion, television, quizzes,  
movie stars, boys; it all seemed so suddenly meaningless. She  
had run away from home, her brother wasn't her brother... the  
immensity of her tragedy was so great. How was she supposed to  
go on, when her brother, for whom her life was lived, wasn't  
her brother? Life was all a lie, a terrible, rotten lie.

"Nanami?"

She glanced over. "What?"

Juri had put the hairbrush aside on the arm of the couch.  
"How _do_ you think I'd look with my hair braided?"

Nanami raised her eyebrows and looked at Juri suspiciously.  
"You're in a really weird mood tonight, sempai, aren't you?"

Juri smiled faintly. "Maybe I'm always like this at home,"  
she said. She pulled her legs up onto the couch, crossed them,  
and turned her back to Nanami. "Come on. Think you'll ever have  
this opportunity again? You can tell all your friends about it.  
Though they'll never believe you."

After a moment, Nanami tossed her magazine onto the floor,  
swung her own legs up onto the couch, and almost hesitantly put  
her hands on Juri's hair. Long, thick, slightly wavy hair. A  
beautiful colour, too, burnished bronze to coppery fire depending  
on how the light hit it. Gorgeous hair, nearly as nice as hers.

Her fingers worked quickly and dextrously. They didn't talk  
much while she braided: the occasional soft request for a  
differing tilt of neck from her to Juri was more or less the  
entirety. It didn't take long, and soon Juri's hair hung in two  
long, neat braids.

Finished, she clapped her hands and smiled. "I was right--  
you do look cool."

"Hmph," Juri said. She swung her legs off the couch and  
headed for the bathroom to see for herself, Nanami trailing her.

"I look like I'm about eleven," Juri said as she looked in  
the mirror, with a stoniness Nanami couldn't say was genuine or  
not. Juri reached back and moved the braids so they draped over  
her shoulders. Then she smiled, and laughed softly. "I can't  
believe I let you do this, Nanami. I look utterly ridiculous."

"No, you don't," Nanami said, pursing her lips. "You look  
cool. Don't you trust my fashion sense?"

Juri just shook her head, smile fading a little, but not  
entirely disappearing. "What a night," she murmured, so quietly  
that Nanami was quite certain she was speaking only for  
herself--that perhaps she wasn't even aware, in that moment, that  
there was anyone else with her. "My, what a night..."

"It's been a funny time for both of us, hasn't it, Juri?"  
she said quietly. "You, with Tsuchiya-sempai coming back, and me  
with, well..." She blinked, a thought suddenly occurring. "Hey,  
do you know why Tsuchiya-sempai stopped coming to school? Miki  
and I were wondering, and..." She trailed away; there was  
something funny in Juri's eyes, which she could only see  
reflected in the mirror before them as she stood behind her.

"Actually, Nanami, I..."

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm not one to guess at Ruka's motives or  
actions." Juri's voice made it clear that it was a closed topic.

"I wish I had a camera," Nanami said after a moment; the  
silence was too uncomfortable. "I'd really like a picture of you  
like this."

"I wouldn't let you take one," Juri replied. She turned  
around. "Want me to do yours?" she offered.

Nanami nodded. "Sure."

They returned to the couch, sat down in almost a mirror  
image of their earlier positions, Nanami with her back to Juri.  
Juri's fingers, so agile on the hilt of a sword, struck Nanami as  
uncommonly clumsy at braiding hair. She pulled too hard very  
often, once so hard that Nanami yelped softly.

"Sorry," Juri said, taking her fingers away for a moment.  
"I haven't braided hair, mine or anyone else's, for a long time."

When Juri finished, they returned to the bathroom to look at  
the results. The single braid was rather clumsy compared to  
Nanami's handiwork, but adequate enough. They stood side by  
side before the full-length mirror on the shower doors to  
compare.

"Braids are a little commonplace," Nanami said. "I'd never  
wear one in public."

Juri tugged on one of hers and grimaced slightly. "Neither  
would I, but, like I said, they make me look like I'm about  
eleven. It suits you better."

Nanami glanced at her. "Maybe you'd look better with a  
single braid..."

"I think one session of hair braiding is enough for me  
tonight," Juri said. Nanami thought for a moment she was going  
to turn away and leave, but she didn't; just stood there, beside  
her, the two of them in their nightdresses, hair braided. She  
wished again she had a camera. 

"It's funny, you know," Nanami said after a moment. "If  
someone was looking at us, right now, they wouldn't think that  
there was anything exceptional about us." She paused. "Beyond  
our stunning beauty, of course. I just mean, they wouldn't  
think, 'Those two girls have fought duels in the sky, those two  
girls have fought for the Revolution'. They'd probably just  
think we were two friends, having a sleepover." Again, she  
paused. "Maybe even sisters, or something."

"What a weird thing to say."

Lightly, lingeringly, Juri's hand touched her back. They  
stood before the mirror, silent for what felt like a very long  
time, as though trapped by the eyes of their own reflections.

"Sisters, huh?" Juri said eventually, and chuckled. Her  
hand left.

"Thanks for letting me stay here, Juri," Nanami said. "Even  
if it's just for one night."

"Yes," Juri murmured. "One night. That's all." She left  
the bathroom; Nanami followed.

"I've got some work to get finished for school tomorrow,"  
Juri said, glancing at the wall clock: half past eight. "I'll be  
in my room."

Nanami nodded. Juri headed into her room and closed the  
door behind her. The click of the latch held a certain sense of  
finality to it; the moment was clearly over, and probably would  
never come again.

She sat down on the couch, picked up the magazine; then she  
sniffed dismissively and threw it down on the floor again. She  
leaned over, resting her forearm on the arm of the couch and  
pillowing her chin on them. Sisters. It _had_ been a weird  
thing to say. Embarrassing, too. She wished now that she hadn't  
said it.

The notion was intriguing, though. It would probably be  
neat, having an older sister instead of an older brother.  
Especially someone like Juri, who was cool and tough and had  
superb fashion sense and great hair.

It certainly couldn't be any worse than having the fake  
sibling that she did. She sighed, and watched the swaying  
pendulum of the wall clock. Back and forth, back and forth, from  
one extreme to another, permanently unable to find a mid-point.  
An uncomfortable existence, but it helped to keep the machinery  
running.

She wanted to go home and throw herself into her brother's  
arms and act as though she didn't know. She wanted to get on a  
plane and go far, far away from here, and never come back. Why  
bother doing homework and trying to pretend that everything was  
normal when it _wasn't_ normal? When things could obviously  
never be normal again?

Because you had to do something, she supposed. Otherwise,  
you were just alone with your thoughts. She opened up her  
satchel and did algebra worksheets with mechanical precision for  
the better part of an hour. She had to work slowly, checking and  
rechecking her answers, in order to get everything right. She  
wondered why she even bothered; Tsuwabuki would have a crib sheet  
ready for her next test. Tsuwabuki... maybe she could stay with  
him next...

Gradually, she moved from sitting on the couch to work to  
lying down on it to work. A little before half past nine, she  
discovered her head was nodding, and that all the Xs and Ys and  
numbers were making even less sense to her than they usually did.  
She put her pencil and books down on the floor and rolled over  
onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. The couch was big  
enough that she didn't have to curl up to lie on it. She found  
her eyes closing, seemingly of their own volition.

She dozed, caught somewhere between waking and sleeping.  
She had a brief but frightening dream, in which her brother  
seized her by the right arm and a shadowy figure seized her by  
the left, and they pulled until it seemed they would split her in  
half like a wishbone. At the last second, just before she was  
awakened by the sound of Juri's bedroom door opening, she saw  
that the shadowy figure had her brother's face.

With the dream still lucid and fearful in her mind, she  
looked up at Juri. The wall clock was striking ten, slowly and  
softly.

"I'm going to bed now," Juri said. Her hair was still in  
the two loose braids, one draped over her shoulder, one hanging  
down her back. "Do you want a blanket?"

"No. I'm fine. It's a warm night."

"All right, then. Good night. What time do you want me to  
wake you tomorrow?"

"Whenever you get up is fine."

"I get up quite early."

"That's fine... how early?"

"Five. I jog every morning."

"You would," Nanami said, a little sourly. She rolled onto  
her side, away from Juri. "Wake me up when you get back from  
jogging."

"All right."

"Good night, Juri."

"Just don't go snooping around while I'm gone again. Good  
night, Nanami." 

Nanami rolled back over to face Juri, words of denial and  
protest rising on her lips, but all she got was the sight of the  
bedroom door closing, with fuller weight of finality than before.

* * *

THREE

* * *

So the princess fled from her castle and her brother, and sought  
sanctuary with the nobles of the court. But their own houses  
were in turmoil, and she could not abide long with them.

At last, she begged a bed for the night of the youngest lord  
of the court, who had long been enamoured of her. Had she taken  
refuge with him, her history might have been a different one--but  
such was not to be, for then came a prince to her, and he said,  
My palace is ever open to you, as it is to all damsels in  
distress.

What happened next is well-known, for the princess came to  
discover the what darkness dwelt in the shadows of the prince's  
bright castle. Some say that her horror was great as it was  
because what she saw reflected the darker desires of her own  
heart. But some say otherwise, and none can know the truth.

There was another princess, one who wished to be a prince,  
and the two princesses were adversaries. Some might call them  
opposites, for one was cruel were the other was kind, one was  
magnanimous where the other was selfish, one was petty where the  
other was forgiving. But things are never so simple as that, and  
some might say that the two of them were in truth more alike than  
any other two ladies of the court.

At the end of the day, there was a victor and a defeated,  
for that was all the rules of the game could allow. The victor  
went on, and her story is well enough known.

The defeated, perhaps, returned docilely to her castle and  
to her brother, though due to cruel deception and cruel acts she  
believed him no longer her brother at all. There she calmly  
waited out her days until it had come time for the ending of the  
story. And, with the other lords and ladies, she said her pretty  
ending speeches and took her bows and then she went off to take  
on another role after the curtain had fallen.

Or perhaps it was not so simple as that.

* * *

FOUR

* * *

His first inclination was to say no. He tended to go with first  
inclinations.

"No."

"Please?"

"No." He began to close the door.

"Kyouichi, I've got nowhere else to go."

He paused. He didn't get called by his first name very  
often, which suited him fine; there were few who had the right to  
address him with such familiarity. He supposed that Nanami  
technically did, given how long she'd known him.

But he didn't have to like it, and he didn't have to care.  
"Go home, Nanami. I want nothing to do with you, or with your  
brother, or with whatever troubles you're having." He started  
again to close the door.

"He's not my brother!" She put her arm against the  
doorframe so that he couldn't close the door without crushing it.  
"Kyouichi, please."

"Move your arm," he said coldly. What did she mean, Touga  
wasn't her brother? One of the more foolish things he'd heard  
recently. Probably another one of her childish delusions over  
some misunderstanding.

"Please!"

He heard the downstairs door open; footsteps, voices. Damn,  
he thought, I don't need this. Damn Touga. Damn Nanami.

"Look, beyond the fact that I don't care, how do you think  
it's going to look if I have you staying here? First of all,  
it's against school regulations; second of all, think of the  
rumours; third, again, I don't care about you or your troubles.  
Now kindly move your arm so I can close the door."

"Do you really hate me so much?" Nanami half-whispered, eyes  
shimmering as though she were about to burst into tears.  
Probably was; he didn't doubt that Nanami could cry at will.

He regarded her with blank dismissal. "It's not that I hate  
you. I merely don't care. There's a great difference between  
active dislike and apathy. Look, go home to your brother; I've  
no interest in getting involved with this."

"I told you, he's not my brother," she muttered.

"Don't be stupid!" he snapped. "Of course he's your  
brother. I don't know how the hell you get these notions into  
your head, but--"

"He told me the truth. We're not blood relations."

Slowly, Saionji Kyouichi blinked. Then he opened the door  
with an inward sigh of resignation. "Look, just come in. It  
will be easier for me to point out your idiocy to you that way."

"Thank you." She sounded absurdly grateful.

He led her towards the small kitchen of his suite. "I heard  
all the rumours over the last few days; that you'd run away from  
home, had some kind of fight with your brother."

"Oh."

He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table. "Sit down."

She sat. "Did you believe them?"

"Believe what?"

"The rumours."

He shrugged as her opened a cupboard. "I didn't care enough  
to decide whether I believed them or not. I suspect it was all  
just part of whatever game your manipulative bastard of a brother  
is running with the Trustee Chairman."

"How long have you known about that?" Her voice was soft,  
but tight like a spring. 

"Since the day I first returned to the Council after my...  
absence." He pulled down a small tin and put it down on the  
table. "I baked cookies yesterday. If you wish, you may have  
one." He gestured at the tin. 

Nanami just stared at him.

"You've known for that long about what my brother was up to,  
about the identity of the Ends of the World, and... and... you  
didn't _tell_ us?"

He looked at her flatly. "Why should I have? It's no  
concern of mine if you or Miki or Juri go blundering about making  
fools of yourselves. And, really, do you think any of you could  
have avoided your part in these rituals even if I had told you?"

"I hate you!" she screeched; she was out of her chair and  
pummelling him about the head and chest and shoulders before he  
even had time to blink. "You... you... you jerk! Damn it, if  
you'd just told us..."

"Ow! Stop it!" He put up his arms and managed to take most  
of the hits upon them, but she slipped one little fist through  
and nailed him hard in the ribcage, robbing him of breath.  
"Nanami," he gasped, "stop it, you crazy little bitch!"

"Jerk!" She began to hammer against him as though against a  
locked door. "I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"  
Pitched so high, her voice grated on his ears like a file. And  
despite her small stature, the punches were hard, and hurt.

Fed up, he grabbed her wrists and yanked her arms out to the  
sides, not with enough force to really hurt her. He twisted his  
body in time to catch the knee aimed at his groin against his  
hip, and roared "Stop it!" once again.

For a moment, she struggled, and he actually found it hard  
to keep a grip on her wrists; then, the almost daemonic strength  
left her body, and she practically collapsed against him, letting  
out a seemingly heartfelt wail of anguish.

He realized she was crying, had been for some time. Damn  
it, he really did not need this. He just _didn't_ care; even  
when she was just a little kid, Nanami had been an annoyance,  
clamouring for Touga's attention whenever she was around and  
sulking if she didn't get it immediately. They'd always had to  
sneak off to do things by themselves to make sure she wouldn't  
try and tag along, and when they got back, Nanami would come  
running up, and it would be nothing but Oh big brother where did  
you go, I thought you left me forever, and Don't worry, Nanami, I  
wouldn't do that to my little sister, until Nanami was satisfied  
that her big brother loved her and nobody but her, and then  
_maybe_, just maybe, she'd leave them alone for a while.

He let her wrists go, and was shocked to find her arms wrap  
around his bruised ribcage, as she continued to sob pitifully  
against his chest.

"Nanami, get off me," he said. "Stop crying. Pull  
yourself together. You're acting like a child."

In response, her sobbing doubled. She clung to him as  
though he were all that was keeping her upright. Perhaps he was;  
it wasn't a role he cared for. He didn't like relying upon other  
people, or having them rely upon him, for anything.

He didn't have any idea how to deal with an upset woman.  
Anthy had never cried. What a God-damn mess, he thought. Maybe  
if he just let her go on for a while, she'd stop. He should  
never have let her come in at all. More than that; he should  
never have even opened the door.

Damn Touga. This was all his fault, somehow. Telling  
Nanami they weren't related by blood or something. He didn't  
believe it for a second. And even if it was true, he didn't get  
why it was such a big deal to Nanami; she'd lived like she was  
his sister for thirteen years, so what did it matter if she was a  
blood relative or not? Some people cared about the dumbest  
things.

Damn it, when was she going to stop crying? What did she  
expect him to do? Give her a kiss and say everything was going  
to be fine, like he'd seen Touga do when she'd skinned her knee  
trying to ride his bike? Who the hell did she think he was,  
expecting him of all people to give her comfort? Who did she  
think she was, imposing upon him like this?

Very awkwardly and uncertainly, he squeezed her shoulder.  
"Look, stop crying, okay? Crying never did anybody any good."

Nanami raised her head and looked up at him. She looked  
horrible: red-faced, bleary-eyed, runny-nosed. The effect was  
almost comical, particularly when she was usually so elegant.

"You're _smiling_!" she shrieked. He hadn't realized he  
was. "How can you be so insensitive?"

"I'm sorry," he said. It came out quite insincerely.  
"It's only that you don't look very pretty when you're crying."

She just stared at him for a moment, then shoved away from  
him, scowling and wiping fiercely at her eyes with the back of  
her hand.

"I hate you," she muttered.

"As you will." He shrugged and leaned back heavily against  
the counter, folding his arms and trying to look casual, despite  
the fact that his ribs really did hurt. "Are you quite  
finished?"

"How can you treat me like this when we practically grew up  
together?"

He frowned; the words were like a whiny echo of Touga, in  
their attempt to win him over by appealing to sentiments forged  
in youth that he no longer wished to hold. "Because I don't like  
you very much, Nanami. You play cute and innocent, but you're  
actually mean as a snake and twice as cunning, and you don't  
really care about anyone except yourself." He paused, reflecting  
for a moment on his own words as Nanami stared open-mouthed at  
him; he wondered if anyone had ever bothered to tell her what  
they really thought of her to her face. Perhaps it was past time  
somebody did. "And you remind me too much of your brother."

"Don't compare me to him," she snapped. "And he's not my  
brother. Haven't you been listening to anything thing I've been  
saying?"

"Yeah, and I don't believe any of it," he replied. "You're  
an idiot if you believe you're not blood relations just because  
Touga says so. Did you think to ask your mother or father?"

Her silence was answer enough. He shook his head in  
disgust. "As I thought. You just blindly took his word for it.  
Haven't you realized by now that Touga's a deceptive bastard?"

Nanami flinched; then, to his mild surprise, she smirked at  
him. "Don't you sound clever? Like you're the only one who  
knows what's really going on. But you know less than you think  
you do," she hissed. "You're just like Miki; so in love with the  
Rose Bride that you're blind to what she really is. She and her  
brother..."

"I don't," he said icily, "have any desire to talk about  
Anthy with you."

"Oh?" Nanami smirked at him. "So, you get to lecture me,  
but I don't get to lecture you?"

He smirked right back. "Nanami, the day I show up on _your_  
doorstep asking to stay with you, feel free to lecture me all you  
want." He ran his eyes over her. "Go to the bathroom and clean  
yourself up, if you want; you look horrible."

She turned away from him without a word, walked to the  
kitchen doorway, then looked back over her shoulder. "I really  
do hate you, you know. You were my last resort. I forgot just  
how much of a cruel jerk you are."

He shrugged. "Sorry I'm not one to allow myself to be  
manipulated by sentiment. Your problems are none of my concern."

Nanami gave him a withering scowl, and stomped off.

When she returned, he was making tea, and had opened the  
cookie tin. "Go on, have one." He gestured at the neatly-  
arranged rows of cookies in the tin. "They've got macadamia  
nuts."

"I hate macadamia nuts," Nanami muttered. But she sat down  
and ate one anyway, slowly.

"Feel better now?" he asked, as he watched for signs of  
steam from the kettle. "I've heard tell that a good cry makes  
you feel better, although I think that's nonsense myself."

"No. I don't feel any better."

"You Duelled again, didn't you?"

She took a moment to answer, during which the steam began to  
rise from the kettle's spout. He poured the boiling water into  
the teapot, over the bags of strong black tea that he favoured.  
"Yes. Just today."

"Did you come here right after?" He left the tea to steep  
on the counter, sat down across from her, and took a cookie. He  
chewed thoughtfully; next time, more sugar, fewer nuts.

"Yes. After I lost... Tenjou and Himemiya left. Then my  
brother left. And I couldn't think of anywhere else to go."

"Did your brother say anything to you before he went?"

"He told me he hoped I was done with all this nonsense now,  
and would come home like a good little sister," Nanami said  
sourly. "Well, to hell with that."

"Smart." Saionji nodded approvingly and ate another cookie.  
"When you do go back, make sure you don't fall into his clutches  
again. He's a tricky bastard, your brother."

"Thank you so much, Kyouichi; it's helpful for you to  
inform me of totally obvious facts."

"You've demonstrated a talent in the past for missing what's  
right in front of you," he said bluntly.

"You're one to talk."

He scowled. "If you're going to bring up Anthy again, you  
can just leave right now."

"You're still in love with her, aren't you?" she accused.

He almost flinched. "How easy do you think it is to stop  
loving someone, anyway?"

"It's not easy. Not easy at all." Her voice was very soft;  
she was admitting defeat in their verbal sparring. Or perhaps  
she simply didn't care to try and win any longer.

The tea had steeped long enough. He got up and poured them  
each a cup. "Milk? Sugar?"

"I hate black tea," she muttered. "Lots of both."

He laughed. "You ought to be more gracious towards your  
host, Nanami-kun."

"You're a shitty host," she muttered.

"There's a saying about beggars and choosers, isn't there?"  
He set down her teacup before her; it had turned a pale brown  
from the amount of milk he'd added. Out the window, night was  
oncoming, and the sun had entirely set. "Just so we get things  
straight: you're definitely not staying the night here."

"I wouldn't want to anyway." She drank her tea, grimaced.  
"It's too sweet."

"Do you ever do anything other than complain and beat people  
up when they're kind to you?" He sat back down with his tea.

She snorted softly. "You're incapable of being kind."

"I don't act dishonest and hide my true self so that people  
won't think badly of me, if that's what you mean."

"It's not."

He sipped his tea; hot enough almost to scald his mouth,  
dark and bitter. "So, after tea and conversation, you go home."

"I'm not going home."

"Don't be stupid. Where are you going to stay the night?"

"I'm _not going home_."

His laughter was harsh and sharp. "Right. You're so  
pampered you won't last a day without someone else to rely on.  
And, if I understand you right, you've already tried Miki and  
Juri."

She kept her silence, and glared balefully at the top of the  
table. Then she raised her head and said, "Tenjou said before  
she left that I could come and stay with them again if I needed  
to. With her and the Rose Bride and the Ends of the World." She  
laughed, a little choke in it. "Isn't that priceless? She has  
no idea what those two are really up to. And she's got a crush  
on the Trustee Chairman."

"Serves the bitch right," Saionji said coldly. "She'll get  
what's coming to her in the end."

"So cruel..."

"Don't act self-righteous. You hate her as much as I do."

"What's it all for, Kyouichi? The Revolution, I mean."

"Like I said, it's a ritual." He had only come to the  
conclusion himself some days ago, but chose to act as though it  
had been his opinion all along. "You know how rituals ends,  
right?"

"No."

"With a sacrifice." He smiled; a small, almost hidden,  
secretive smile, to disguise his own fear and trepidation.

"It's horrible," Nanami murmured. "I should try and  
transfer schools again. Get out of here, before it comes..."

He chuckled. "Do you really think you'll be allowed to  
leave this place so easily?"

She went a little pale. "No. I don't think I would be.  
Maybe I should just run... I've got a trust fund. I could get  
money somehow. Go far away from here."

"You wouldn't last a day on your own, Nanami."

"And you would?"

"I'm not the one thinking about running away, am I?"

"Maybe you should be."

He frowned. "I'm not a coward. I won't run."

"You'd run too," she intoned, "if you'd seen the kind of  
things I've seen."

"What are you talking about? Stop dancing around and just  
come out and say it."

"The Rose Bride and her brother... the things they get up  
to..." She closed her eyes and put a hand over her mouth, as  
though trying to keep her voice sealed away; but it came out all  
the same, though muffled. "It's awful. Unnatural. Disgusting."

"Lies," he said slowly, finally beginning to understand what  
she was hinting at. "Don't say such filth. I won't hear it."

"Just like Utena. You won't _see_."

He banged his hands on the table hard enough to make their  
teacups bounce and almost spill; Nanami jumped a little in her  
seat, looking suddenly fearful. "Lies," he hissed. "Watch your  
mouth, Nanami, or--"

"Or what? You'll slap me?" She glared at him. "I'll hit  
you right back, twice as hard and ten times more. I'm not a  
submissive little sister like the Rose Bride, believe me."

He deflated a little. Then, slowly, he asked, "Does Touga  
know about this? I mean, he's been running about with the  
Deputy Chairman, and..."

"Know?" Nanami whispered. "Know? He tried to..."

"What?" he asked, almost desperately, as she trailed off.

"I can't." She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked  
slightly in her chair. "I can't even..."

Saionji felt an acid nausea begin to bubble in the depths of  
his stomach. He stared into the black depths of his tea, almost  
convinced his faint, dark reflection was staring back at him with  
accusation in its tea-dark eyes.

"You're wrong," he said finally.

She didn't say anything at all.

Slowly, he stood up.

"Come on," he said. He held out his hand, as though to help  
her rise.

She stood on her own, frowning. "What?"

"I'm taking you home."

"I won't go!"

"Did I ask your agreement?"

"You can't make me--"

"Look, you can either come peacefully with me to talk to  
your brother, or I can throw you over my shoulder and drag you  
home kicking and screaming." He sneered at her. "And if you  
don't think I'm capable of that, Nanami, then you really don't  
know me."

"Bastard," she snarled. She looked as though the only thing  
preventing her from crying again was how much she despised him.  
"I hate you."

"You repeat yourself unecessarily. Come on."

Outside, the night was warm and a little humid. He led the  
glaring Nanami around to the side of the dorm building, where the  
bike racks were, and knelt down to unlock his bike.

"It's a long walk," he said by way of explanation. "This  
will be faster."

"Touga used to give me rides on the back of his bike," she  
said softly.

"Yeah," Saionji replied after a moment, standing up and  
wheeling his bike out of the metal frame of the rack, "me too."  
He moved it out into the front street; the traffic on the roads  
was light, with few cars. There wasn't much night life in this  
city, under usual circumstances.

"Do I really have to go back?" she asked in a small,  
defeated voice, as he swung his leg over and settled down onto  
the seat. 

He looked back at her, a slender shape in the night, and  
felt an uncharacteristic stab of compassion and empathy. He'd  
told her she was acting like a child earlier, but how surprising  
was that? How old was she again? Twelve, thirteen? He tried to  
remember when her birthday was, and couldn't.

"Yeah," he said at last. "You do. Hop on." He patted the  
rim guard over the back wheel, the same place he'd always used to  
sit when he rode with Touga. 

Nanami perched on it, grimacing. "It's uncomfortable," she  
complained. "No padding."

"It's not far," he said. He was surprised at how soft his  
voice had become. Perhaps it was simply the acoustics of the  
night. "Hang on tight to me so you don't fall off."

She grudgingly wrapped her arms around his waist. He  
gripped the handlebars, flicked on the bike's light so he could  
see the way, lifted his feet to the pedals, and they were off.  
Nanami tightened her grip as the wind began to blow through his  
hair; the small, soft shapes of her breasts pressed against his  
back, and she laid her head between his shoulder-blades

"You don't have to hang on _that_ tight," he muttered as he  
worked the petals with all his strength, so that the night rushed  
by and blurred around them.

"I don't want to fall," she whimpered, sounding terrified.  
"Do you have to go so fast?"

"No," he replied. They reached an intersection; he whipped  
the bike to the left in a quick turn, and Nanami let out a tiny  
shriek. "But I like to."

"Please," she whispered. "Please, just slow down a little."

"I know what I'm doing."

"Please!"

Cars moved by them like large, sluggish fish beside a  
darting minnow. The headlights bathed them in light, glistening  
off his bike's reflectors and occasionally threatening to blind  
him. Nanami let out a strangled sound and pressed even harder  
against him.

The road began to slant upwards; he shifted gears to climb  
it, and Nanami let out a sigh of relief as they slowed down.

"Thank you," she murmured. "Thank you, thank you, thank  
you, oh, God, I thought I was going to die, how could you go so  
_fast_--"

They reached the peak of the hill, and started down.

"OhshitohshitohshitohshitIhateyouIhateyouyoubastard!"

He laughed, and the wind caught it up and mingled it with  
Nanami's yells and sent both their voices hurtling away into the  
night sky towards the passionless stars. They coasted down the  
hill at what felt like hundreds of miles an hour, weaving between  
cars that honked their horns as they whipped past, whose drivers  
leaned out the window to shout at them. Crazy kids, maniacs!

He applied the brakes gingerly, gradually slowing them, and  
put his feet back on the pedals. A few more turns, and they were  
in front of the gates of the Kiryuu mansion. Nanami didn't say  
anything the rest of the way, merely clinging to his back like a  
little blonde limpet.

The gates were open. Even when they had come to a complete  
halt, Nanami still had her arms wrapped around them, as though  
she didn't believe it was actually over.

"Are you paralysed?" he asked. 

"Bastard," she half-stuttered, slowly removing her arms  
and stumbling away from the bike. "I'm going to be walking  
funny for days," she said, wincing and rubbing her hips. 

He wheeled his bike over and leaned it against the wall by  
the gates, which were open wide as though in expectation of them.  
"I haven't ridden down a hill like that in years," he said,  
taking a deep breath of night air. "Fun, wasn't it?"

"No."

He glanced at her, smiling. "But don't you feel _alive_?"  
he asked. "Like everything's more... real, somehow?"

She glowered at him. "No."

He shrugged. "Well, don't worry; you won't ever have to do  
it again. Come on."

Nanami didn't move.

"Come on." He took her by the arm, firmly but gently, and  
led her through the gates.

* * *

Brass called, strings swept; the timpani rolled like the rolling  
of thunder. The music built until it seemed it could build no  
more--and then it did, and the climax went on, and on, and  
finished at last, leaving only silence as the last echo faded.

He stood at the unbroken window that should have been broken  
and watched the night, wondering where his sister was; what she  
was doing, who she was with. The Bruckner symphony was ended.  
After a moment, he crossed the floor to the gramophone, took the  
record off, and replaced it in its sleeve.

Unbroken window. Should have been broken, letting in night  
breezes, night sounds... a spray of glass should have lain  
glinting across the floor.

He ran a hand through his hair; it came away sweaty. He put  
the record back on the shelf, and flipped through the collection;  
the sleeves were faded, but in good condition. Some of them  
belonged to his father, but most of were his own acquisitions. 

Rostropovich and von Karajan; the Dvorak concerto; nineteen  
sixty-nine. One of the original German LPs. Unbroken window.  
Cross the floor, lift the arm, place the record upon the  
turntable, position the needle...

This was the same room, was it not? But, if so, why was the  
window unbroken? If you drove a car through a window, it should  
stay broken, he thought. It was not right for it to be another  
way.

The music began, sweet enough to tear the heart out. Dvorak  
had been one of the last of the unashamed romantics. He'd died  
before twelve-tone and minimalism and serialism and neo-  
classicism and all the other -isms. He'd been lucky, in a way.

He hoped to God that wherever Nanami was, she hadn't gone  
back to the Chairman's tower. He didn't think she would--no, he  
knew she wouldn't go back there. But where, then?

Her lips had been small, and soft, and he'd tasted them only  
briefly before she'd flung him away from her with a shocking  
strength. He was almost certain it would have been her first  
real kiss. His own sister.

And how did you come to this state, Mr. President?

Well, you see, it all began when I met a girl in a coffin,  
and I couldn't save her...

And this chivalry of yours, is that all just an act?

I don't think I want to answer that question right now.

And do you think what you did to your sister was right, Mr.  
President?

I don't know what's right. Or wrong, either. But was it  
really so terrible for her? Didn't it force her to realize what  
she really wanted?

Wouldn't it have been easier to just _talk things over with  
her_, Mr. President? Aren't you merely justifying what you would  
have had to do anyway? After all, the Duels must be fought; for  
the Revolution of the world!

I don't--

Mr. President, just what are the ends of the Ends of the  
World? Do you know? Do you?

Someone knocked at the door.

"Come in," he called, over the bowing of the cello and the  
accompaniment of the orchestra. Perhaps Nanami was finally home;  
or it might be his mother, asking if he'd had any word about  
Nanami from any of his friends, what about Kyouichi, did you call  
him and see? She might have gone to him, you know, the two of  
you are such good friends, and why haven't I seen him around the  
house lately? Did something happen?

No, Mother; don't worry about it. Things will be fine.  
Nanami will be home soon, I'm sure. He'd given her a good cover  
story; I think she found out about the adoption, somehow, Mother,  
and you know how upset she can get over things. 

They'd only told him a year ago, and asked him to keep it  
from Nanami. Not that he hadn't already figured it out years  
before. He had his ways.

The door opened; he turned away from the unbroken window.

"Saionji," he said, hiding his surprise as easily as he  
concealed anything else. 

"Touga," Saionji replied neutrally, closing the door behind  
him. He looked around the room; at last, his eyes returned to  
and fixed on Touga. "I brought your sister home."

"Thank you." He walked slowly over to Saionji, keeping a  
little distance between them. "Where is she?"

"In the hall. I said I wanted a private word with you  
first."

"Yes?"

Saionji crossed his arms and cocked his head, apparently  
listening to the music. "That's nice. What is it?"

"Dvorak."

"Your mother's relieved to see Nanami back."

"Oh? You talked to her?"

"Just a little. You know how much I hate being thanked for  
anything."

He smiled faintly. "Of course you do. It makes you feel  
like you have some sort of obligation to people, which you hate."

"And you don't?"

"Of course not; I'm chivalrous."

"You're full of shit," Saionji snapped, eyes narrowing.

"Don't lose your temper." He held out his hand. "You  
brought my sister back. Does this mean you want to be friends  
again?"

After a moment, Saionji took his hand, scowling as he did.  
Touga clasped his other hand over it and let his smile grow.  
"There. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"No." Saionji smiled back.

The blow was dirty and unexpected, and it left Touga  
gasping on the floor for air that simply would not cooperate and  
allow him to draw it.

"That was a really lousy thing to do to your sister, Touga,"  
Saionji said almost conversationally. "Even for you. I knew  
you'd become an ass-kissing lackey for Ends of the World, but I  
didn't think even you would try to rape your own sister."

Touga rolled over onto his back. "Saionji--" he managed to  
croak. He felt as though he were going to throw up at any  
moment.

"Shut up," Saionji snarled, looming over him. "Shut up, or  
I'll kick your head in. I actually thought better of you than  
that. You're scum, Touga. I'd spit on you, but I don't want to  
waste the saliva."

He knelt down, grabbed Touga by the collar, and jerked him  
upright. The motion almost broke the hold Touga had on not  
bringing up his dinner. He didn't think he'd ever been hit so  
hard in the stomach before.

"Now you listen to me," he hissed. "You can get up to  
whatever you want with the Chairman and whatever game he's  
playing with Tenjou Utena, because I don't give a shit about you  
or him or that stuck-up bitch, but you touch your sister again  
and I'll kill you."

"Since when did you care so much about Nanami?" The nausea  
was retreating a little, thank goodness; he expected he'd be able  
to breathe normally again in a year or so.

Saionji let him go and stood up. Touga sat on the floor,  
drawing hesitant breaths and clutching his stomach.

"I don't, much," Saionji said, stepping back and turning  
away from Touga. "It's the principle of the thing."

"Saionji?"

"What?"

Touga's tackle caught him about the waist in mid-turn.  
They went down together on the floor in a tangle of limbs; Touga,  
who never fought angry, calmly seized Saionji by the hair and  
banged his forehead against the floor to gain the advantage. The  
Dvorak played sedately in the background as he grabbed Saionji's  
flailing arms and pinned them, then dug one knee into the small  
of his back.

"That was a dirty blow, Saionji," he said, with coolness he  
didn't feel. "I thought you had more honour than that."

"Go to hell," Saionji snapped. He struggled, but Touga had  
too much leverage. "Once I get loose, I'll make you--"

Touga banged his head against the floor again. "Shut up,  
fool, and listen to me. I don't know what Nanami told you, but  
it didn't happen like that."

"Get off me!" Saionji writhed like a fish out of water, and  
nearly managed to throw Touga off. "Damn it!"

"You started this. Don't be such a poor sport."

"You're the one who started this! How the hell did you end  
up licking the boots of Ends of the World, anyway? I didn't  
think you'd ever end up as someone's servant; you had too much  
pride."

"It's a long story. You haven't got the time to hear it,  
and I don't want to tell it to you anyway."

"Fine. Now let me up, Touga!"

"Didn't you threaten to kill me just a moment ago? Why  
should I let you up, if you're going to be a danger to me?"

There was a knock at the door. Touga looked back. "Just a  
minute!" he called.

Saionji slipped an arm free in Touga's moment of distraction  
and clubbed him in the side of the head with his forearm. Touga  
reeled and Saionji hurled him off with a twist of his body. They  
came up from the floor almost simultaneously, fists bunched and  
held up before them. 

The first movement allegro of the Dvorak swelled to a  
crescendo. Saionji stepped forward, clumsily jabbing the air  
with his fists in wasted aggressive motions; Touga retreated,  
trying not to smile. His stomach still hurt like hell, and his  
head was aching, but he felt oddly good.

"Stop running!"

"And let you hit me? No thanks."

"Coward!"

Again, the knocking.

"Come in!" Touga called, dancing away from Saionji's blows  
as he did. 

Nanami opened the door, looked at the two of them, and  
blinked. Saionji glanced briefly at her, which gave Touga the  
opportunity to punch him in the jaw. He staggered back; Touga  
followed up with two light jabs to the stomach.

"You should have taken those boxing classes with me back in  
our freshman year, Saionji-kun," he said. "I found them very  
informative."

Saionji stepped right into another stomach jab, snarling,  
eyes wild; Touga tried to move back, but was too slow, and then  
Saionji had him by the throat. Touga gasped as Saionji tightened  
his hands, and grabbed him by the throat in turn.

Nanami just stared for a split second. Then she started  
yelling.

"What are you two doing? You said you were going to _talk_  
to him, not kill him! Stop it! Stop it right now!"

"He started it," Touga gasped in an air-choked whisper.  
He'd forgotten how _strong_ Saionji was... 

Saionji's eyes were bulging, and smouldered like jade coals.  
"Liar! You started it!"

"I don't care who started it!" Nanami howled. "Just stop  
it!"

Touga caught Saionji's eye; some mutual agreement passed  
between them, and they both released their grips and backed away  
from each other, sucking air and rubbing their throats. Touga  
flopped down into a chair near the unbroken window; Saionji  
slumped against the wall nearby.

"When was the last time we had a fight like that?" Touga  
asked after a moment.

Saionji appeared to think upon it briefly. "When we were in  
our second year of junior high, I think."

"What was it over, again?"

"I don't even remember any more. Maybe a girl?"

Touga nodded, still massaging his throat. "It was a long  
time ago." 

Slowly, he began to laugh. It hurt. After a moment,  
Saionji joined in.

Nanami looked from one to the other, puzzled and angry and  
confused. "I hate you both!" she snapped finally, spinning on  
her heel and heading for the door. "I should have just let you  
strangle each other. I'd have been better off."

"Nanami," Touga called. 

Somewhat to his surprise, she turned back, glaring icily at  
him. "What?"

"Get us some ice packs, would you? We could use them."

Saionji nodded. He sat down on the floor and gingerly  
touched his forehead, wincing as he did. "My life seems to  
consist of being beaten up or used by the Kiryuu siblings these  
days," he muttered.

Nanami's teeth ground together audibly as she left the room,  
slamming the door behind her. 

"Is she actually going to get us ice packs?" Saionji asked,  
sounding genuinely interested.

"I'd give it good odds," Touga replied. 

Saionji shook his head, then looked from his grimacing  
expression as though he wished he hadn't. "What actually  
happened between you two, anyway?"

"She had to duel again. One way or the other."

"Yes." Saionji snorted. "I just bet she did. And that  
was the only way, was it?"

"Probably not," Touga said evenly. He rested an elbow on  
the arm of the chair and cupped his chin lightly with one hand.  
"But it was how he wanted to do it." The admission came with  
surprising difficulty; he might as well have said it straight  
out: Saionji, I'm not in control anymore. I haven't been for a  
long time.

Saionji seemed almost to hear the unspoken words; his  
expression softened slightly. "He's a real bastard, isn't he?"

"Yes. But so am I, so we get along all right."

Saionji smirked cynically. "So, which one's the act?"

"Hrm?"

"I remember you saying all those things about chivalry when  
we were kids, but it always sounded like you actually believed  
it. Why are you doing this, Touga? What are you aiming for?"  
Saionji chuckled dryly and sat down cross-legged on the floor,  
head and back resting against the wall. "What do you want to  
be?"

Touga didn't answer.

"What did you do to her, anyway?"

"A kiss."

Saionji looked dubious. "That all?"

"That was all."

Scowling, Saionji punched the floor. "She made it sound a  
hell of a lot worse than it was, then."

"It was bad enough for her," Touga said quietly.

Saionji just glared at the floor.

Touga took a gamble. "Seeing the Chairman and his sister  
didn't do her much good either."

The look of pure venom that Saionji shot him told him it had  
paid off; Nanami had told him, or hinted at it in such a way that  
Saionji had figured it out.

"That kind of thing's unnatural," Saionji muttered  
eventually.

"So, that's what this was all about," Touga concluded,  
unable to suppress a condescending smirk. "I got to be the  
Chairman's proxy, and Nanami got to stand in for Himemiya for  
you. How noble, in a rather deluded fashion; how very like you,  
Saionji."

"Don't psychoanalyse me, Touga. I always hate when you get  
up to that." 

The first movement ended; the second--adagio ma non troppo--  
began. Touga shifted in his chair; Saionji glared at the floor  
between his legs. The music filled the silence like water in a  
vessel.

"Izanagi and Izanami, though brother and sister, fathered  
all the gods of Japan," Touga said, after some time had passed  
between them without any talk at all.

Saionji looked quizzically at him. "What was that you  
said?"

"I think about that story sometimes these days," Touga  
replied, distantly. "Do you know it?"

"Of course." Saionji seemed annoyed that Touga even  
considered it possible he didn't. 

"When Izanami died giving birth to fire, Izanagi descended  
into the underworld to rescue her. But he found she had become a  
dead thing, queen of worms and corpses. She tried to force him  
to stay with her in the darkness, but he escaped her, and sealed  
the way behind him, leaving her unable ever again to reach the  
light."

"I said that I knew the story, didn't I?"

"I know," Touga murmured. "I know."

Saionji said, "What the hell are they, Touga?"

"Fallen gods. Fallen angels." He shrugged. "I don't  
know."

Saionji whistled softly. "Well, I'll be damned."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not."

"Hey, Touga?"

Touga raised his head and met Saionji's eyes. There was an  
oddly childish lilt in his old friend's voice; he remembered it  
well. Hey, Touga, wait for me; you're running too fast; I can't  
keep up with you. Wait up!

"Yes?"

"You told me that the Chairman was the one who saved that  
girl... the one who was in the coffin. That he showed her  
something eternal."

"Yes?"

"Did you see it too?"

Before Touga could answer, the door opened, and Nanami  
stalked in, an ice pack in each hand. She glared at Touga and  
tossed it to him with a hard overhand throw; he caught it, smiled  
and thanked her, and gladly pressed it to the aching side of his  
head.

Body language radiating total disdain for Touga, Nanami  
knelt down by Saionji and gently offered him the ice pack.  
"Here, Kyouichi."

Saionji took it and held it to his forehead. "Thanks."

Nanami took a few steps back, then sat down on the floor,  
near the table that the gramophone rested on, legs curled beneath  
her. She looked from one boy to the other, then away, lips  
pressed into a tight frown.

"It's good to see you home," Touga offered.

"Shut up."

He held up a hand defensively. "Come now, Nanami..."

"I said, shut up."

Saionji switched the ice pack to his jaw and smiled  
faintly. "Want me to leave the two of you alone to talk?"

"You're welcome to leave any time you choose," Nanami said  
frostily. She folded her arms and glared. "I'm still trying to  
decide which one of you I hate more right now."

"Him." Saionji jerked a thumb in Touga's direction.

Touga nodded, tried not to smile. "Saionji's not the most  
pleasant of men, but he's a saint compared to me."

Nanami looked at him with undisguised disgust. "This really  
is just a game to you, isn't it?" she asked softly. "You don't  
care who gets hurt at all. Kyouichi, or me, or anyone else."

He almost winced; but control, control was everything. "I  
take my games seriously."

"If you have weaknesses, people will take advantage of  
them," Saionji said, voice muffled slightly by the positioning of  
the ice pack. "But you only learn to fear fire by getting burned  
by it." His voice dropped to an intense whisper. "Burn down  
before you build up."

"You're both full of it," Nanami snapped. She glared at  
Saionji, slightly wounded and trying to hide it. "And I can't  
believe you're taking his side."

"I'm not taking anyone's side," Saionji rebuffed. "I'm just  
commenting. I'm here for myself alone." He stood up. "On that  
note, it's late, and tomorrow's a school day. Mind if I keep  
the ice pack for now? I'll return it when I'm finished with it,  
of course."

Touga nodded. "Go ahead."

"Gonna be a long walk home in the dark," Saionji said as he  
walked towards the door. "But I don't want to ride my bike home  
when my head feels like this."

"I could call you a cab--"

Saionji silenced him with a wave of his hand. "Nope. I'm  
not going to be in your debt for anything. Sorry." He opened  
the door, stepped out into the hallway, turned. "You know, you  
are still technically part of the kendo team, Touga; it wouldn't  
hurt you to stop by for practice once in a while."

"No," Touga said evenly, "it probably wouldn't."

Saionji turned his gaze to Nanami. "Nanami."

She raised her head and narrowed her eyes at him. "What?"

"You take care of yourself," Saionji said, with something  
Touga might almost have called warmth. "Don't let your brother  
use you again, because he will if you give him the opportunity."

"Thank you for the advice," Nanami said ungratefully.

Saionji waved, closed the door, and was gone.

Touga waited a few moments, then said, "Can I talk to you  
now without being told to shut up?"

Nanami didn't answer.

"If it helps," he continued neutrally, "I'm sorry that you  
got hurt, Nanami. But you have to understand my point of view--"

"No." She stood. "I don't have to understand your point of  
view at all." She opened the door; the adagio swelled poignantly  
as though timed to her actions. "I don't think I want to."

She slammed the door behind her.

Touga sat in the chair and waited for the Dvorak to end, and  
tried not to think of anything at all. His stomach hurt.

* * *

When she was very young, sometimes she'd grow scared after she  
was put to bed, on moonless nights, usually, when the darkness  
was so very thick. Then she'd leave her bedroom and go down the  
hallway to her brother's room. Quietly, very quietly, she'd open  
the door and enter and quietly, very quietly, she'd crawl into  
his bed, beside him.

Sometimes, he was awake, and he'd say, What's wrong, Nanami?

And she would always say, Big brother, the night was trying  
to eat me again.

And he would always laugh, and say that was silly, because  
the night itself couldn't eat you. Then he would say, Pretend  
that the darkness is the ocean, and this bed is a boat, with just  
the two of us in it, and we are sailing to a pleasant land where  
it is always summer.

Just the two of us?

Yes, just the two of us.

And they'd lie there together. Sometimes he would hold her,  
and eventually the rhythms of their breathing would synchronize,  
until they seemed as though they had but one single set of lungs  
between them. And to her it would seem like the rising and  
falling of their breath was like the rise and fall of the waves,  
and beneath her the bed would seem to undulate as it floated upon  
the wine-dark sea.

And other times, he would be asleep, and she would just lie  
there in silence beside him until sleep took her too. And she  
never, ever had nightmares beside her big brother.

How old had she been, the last time she'd done that? Maybe  
eight. Eight, the last time she'd done it, and he'd let her  
stay. Then it had been, Nanami, don't be silly, you're a big  
girl now, you're too big to be scared of the dark, too big to  
need to sleep with your big brother. Every time after that, he  
sent her back, by herself. And the walk back down the hall to  
her room took forever, because it was so very dark.

There _were_ things in the dark to be afraid of, and if the  
night itself couldn't eat you, plenty of things that lurked in  
the night could, and would, and wanted to.

But Touga had been right. She was a big girl now and she  
didn't need any kind of brother at all, especially not a false  
one. She didn't need anyone. Everyone she knew was horrible  
anyway, in their own particular way. They were cruel or  
insensitive or ignorant or mean or uncaring or stupid. She  
didn't need them. 

She didn't mind being here by herself in her room, with the  
lights out. She was still dressed, lying atop the neatly-made  
covers, staring at the shadows. It was very dark. But she  
wasn't scared. Only babies were scared of the dark. Scared of  
being alone. She wasn't some weirdo like Tenjou, needing to  
practically sleep in the same bed as her so-called friend--

There came a knocking at the door.

"Go away!" she called.

"Nanami, honey, can't I come in?"

She sat up, surprised. "Mama? Yes, of course."

The door opened slowly, an air of hesitation to it, and her  
mother came in. Her adopted mother. Whatever. It was hard to  
think of her as anything other than her mother, though, whatever  
their real relationship might be.

"Can I turn the lights on?"

"If you want."

The sudden shift from dark to bright made her close her  
eyes momentarily. Her mother, who had probably been very pretty  
when she was younger, came and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I'm glad you're home, Nanami."

Those exact words had already been said when Kyouichi had  
practically presented her to her mother, but Nanami decided not  
to point that out. "Okay."

"You scared me, running away like that. Scared me a lot. I  
mean, even when Touga found out you were staying with your  
friends, I was scared. I wanted to... I don't know. I wanted to  
try and talk to you. I wanted your father to come home. But  
Touga said he'd handle things. And he did, I guess. Because  
you're home now."

"Okay."

"I guess you were pretty shocked to find out. Maybe we  
should have told you earlier. But we decided we'd tell each of  
you when you turned sixteen, and it seemed to work okay for  
Touga, and... I'm sorry, honey. It must have been a real shock.  
Touga said you found out because of the blood types. We never  
thought of that."

"It's okay."

"Is there anything you want to know?"

"Are Touga and I related by blood?" 

Her mother looked a little surprised at the question. "Yes.  
We adopted the two of you together; we couldn't have done it any  
other way." She looked at her hands, which were twitching a  
little; Nanami recognized it as a sign she wanted a cigarette.  
"It's a strange story, you know. You want to hear it?"

"Of course I want to hear it," Nanami said, a little  
peevishly. "Don't you think I want to know who I really am?"

Her mother said something under her breath, too quiet for  
her to hear.

"What's that?"

"I said, doesn't everybody?"

She edged a little closer to her mother. "Tell me the  
story, Mama."

"The two of you showed up on our doorstep one morning. One  
of the maids found you. Touga was about five--that was what the  
doctors estimated--and you were only a baby. He was holding you  
in his arms, and he was dressed really nice; a little blue suit.  
And all he would say was, 'My name is Touga. This is my sister,  
Nanami. Will you take care of us?' And then when I said I  
would, he didn't say anything else, for six months. Nobody could  
get him to talk. We spent a lot of money on private  
investigators after the police gave up looking, but no one ever  
found out anything about who your real parents might be. Very  
strange."

"Yes." The story simply didn't seem to register, on top of  
everything else. So Touga and her were related by blood. Big  
deal. He was still a bastard whom she wanted nothing at all to  
do with. "Why didn't he talk?"

"The first thing he said after that was, 'Mother, Nanami is  
crying.' He always talked so proper when he was little; it was  
adorable. After that, he talked normally, but if your father or  
me or anyone else tried to ask him about things that had happened  
before he came here, he just wouldn't say anything. Nothing  
would make him talk about that."

"Oh." Her mother hadn't actually answered the question, but  
she decided not to pry. "That is a strange story."

"I've read some things. A book. Several books. I think I  
probably know the kinds of things you're thinking right now. Why  
you ran away. Just... well, don't. Your father and I don't love  
you any less because you're adopted. We always want you to be a  
part of this family, you and your brother. You two were like a  
miracle." Her mother smiled; it made the ghost of her beauty  
drift higher in the lines of her face. "They said I probably  
never could have children, you know. We tried, and tried, and  
finally we gave up. And then you two showed up, like you'd  
fallen from heaven for us."

The words gave little comfort. They weren't even close to  
the kinds of thoughts she had. But she supposed they were meant  
well enough, even though they might as well have come from an  
entirely different world than the one she lived in now. "I'm  
sorry I ran away, Mama. I know you love me. I love you too."  
The words came easily, almost mechanically.

"We haven't spent a lot of time together lately, have we,  
honey?"

"Not really."

"You and Touga both seem to be growing up so fast these  
days, and you're both so busy with school, with the Student  
Council... I don't know. I'm sorry if I've been rather distant  
lately."

"It's okay."

"Is there anything you want to talk about? I mean, you're  
thirteen now. You're growing up. Pretty soon you'll be a woman,  
not a girl." Her mother looked uncomfortable; the speech was  
obviously prepared in advanced, and made with some effort. "I  
mean... you know about... things, right?"

Nanami flushed crimson and stared intently at the bed.  
"Yes," she muttered. "Yes, I know about things."

"Oh." Her mother looked relieved. "That's good. Umm..."

"Is that all?"

"I don't know. Is it?" Her mother's voice seemed distant;  
Nanami was certain she wanted the conversation to have ended some  
time ago, but was keeping it up out of a sense of obligation. "I  
feel like I should be asking you the kinds of questions my mother  
asked me when I got to be your age, even though I thought they  
were stupid then, and you'll probably think they're stupid now.  
Are you worried about anything? Is anything troubling you? Are  
there any boys you like?"

"No, no, and no," Nanami lied.

"Really? No boys at all?" Her mother appeared somewhat  
disappointed. "What about Kyouichi? It was nice of him to bring  
you home; he's a nice boy, isn't he? And very handsome."

"He's a jerk," she muttered. "Boys are all jerks."

Her mother laughed forcedly. "I remember when I used to  
think that. But it's not true, really. I mean, they're not all  
jerks all of the time."

"Mama, do we have to talk about this?"

"Well, no, we don't. It's just that you're at the age where  
you start to think about these kind of things. Boys. Things  
like that. But..."

"What?"

Her mother seemed to be blushing a little as well. "Just  
keep in mind that you're still young and you need to be careful.  
About boys and dating and... other things like that. You're  
still young."

"Mother!"

"I'm sorry. I just wanted... needed... honey, you look  
really tired."

"I am. I had a long day."

"And here I am, gabbing away at you. I'm sorry. I'll let  
you sleep. Maybe we can talk about this more tomorrow?"

"Maybe."

But they wouldn't. She knew that, and her mother knew that.  
So many relationships were based on mutual denial of obvious  
facts.

She wondered if her mother would give her a hug or a kiss  
before leaving. She tried to decide if she was disappointed when  
she didn't. It wasn't unexpected. Touga was the only one who  
had ever hugged or kissed her much, even when she was little.

After her mother closed the door, she could hear her talking  
to someone in the hallway, hear Touga's voice raised in reply.  
Then they stopped. For a moment, there was silence. 

The door to her room opened.

"Have you ever heard of knocking?" she snapped.

Touga shrugged as he closed the door. "You always used to  
come into my room without knocking."

"That was when we were kids. It's different now."

"But wasn't that what you wanted?" he asked quietly. "For  
things to just be like they were when we were children again?"

"They can't. I'm aware of that now. I've learned your  
little lesson. Now get out." She glared at him; he didn't seem  
bothered by it at all.

"Is this really the way you want it to be between us from  
now on, Nanami?"

She didn't answer at first. Then she said, with a pain that  
surprised her, a pain she wished she didn't have to feel, "How  
can it ever be any other way? After what you did..."

He crossed the floor and sat down on the bed beside her.  
She said nothing, made no motion, to stop him. He folded his  
hands in his lap and stared at them. He still looked a bit  
winded from his fight with Kyouichi.

"I wouldn't have done any more than you wanted me to," he  
said finally.

"Oh?" she said, hugging herself and looking away from him  
until he became only a vague shape seen from the corner of one  
eye, until it seemed he was on the verge of disappearing from her  
sight forever. "And what if I'd wanted more, Touga? What if  
instead of shoving you off me, I'd kissed you back? What if it  
had turned out that it _was_ what I really wanted, all along?  
What then?" 

He didn't say anything at all.

"You would have, wouldn't you?" she finally hissed bitterly.

"I wouldn't have wanted to," he replied.

"But you would have."

Again, he didn't say anything.

Slowly, not really wanting to, she turned her head back  
until she could take all of him in. The silky fall of crimson  
hair, the angular division of light and shadow across his face,  
the gentle blue of his eyes...

He was so very beautiful, her brother.

"Did you even know it wasn't what you wanted until it  
happened?" he asked suddenly.

Her entire body tightened like a clenched fist. "How dare  
you come in here and ask me that?"

"Because I want to know." He locked eyes with her; a note  
of what might have been anger came into his voice. "Be honest  
with yourself, Nanami; is it normal to spy on your big brother  
when he's showering? Is it normal to try and control his life so  
that there won't be any other woman in it but you?"

"That wasn't--"

"It wasn't? Then what was it?"

"You didn't--"

"No. I didn't." It came out laced with weariness,  
something she thought (wanted to believe, perhaps) was regret.

She moved a little closer to him, as close as she could get  
without touching.

"I wish it didn't have to be this way," she said finally,  
giving voice to the hidden desire that she was ashamed to hold.  
"I wish... I wish..."

"Wishing never did anyone any good. You can't make anything  
happen just by wanting it enough."

"You sound as though you wish that weren't true."

He smiled faintly. "Maybe I do."

"Mama told me the story. About how we came here."

"Oh."

"Is it true?"

"I don't really have any way of knowing. I was very young  
when we came here; I hardly remember anything."

"And before we came here? Do you remember anything about  
that?"

A quiet more profound than the mere absence of noise seemed  
to descend upon her bedroom. Touga's eyes, still looking into  
hers, flickered closed, then opened again so quickly they seemed  
never to have been closed at all. Outside, cicadas had begun to  
call to each other. Wind rattled the panes.

"I don't remember anything about those times at all," he  
said finally.

"Why do you think our real parents sent us here, Touga?"

"I wish I knew."

"I don't, you know."

"What?"

"I don't want things to be like this between us forever. I  
want... I want..."

"What do you want?"

"I don't know. I just don't want it to be like _this_.  
Being so angry with you that I want to kill you, and at the same  
time still loving you. I hate feeling like this. It's like  
there are two of me, and one wants to go one way, and the  
other..."

"Relationships can't always be simple." To her surprise, he  
broke eye contact. "Look at Saionji and me. One moment, we were  
trying to strangle each other; the next, we were laughing like  
old friends."

"That's because you're both idiots," she muttered.

"I think he likes you."

She sniffed and turned her nose up at him. "I've no idea  
what you're talking about."

"Seriously. You could do worse. He's not a bad guy."

"I could do a lot better, too," she said with a snort.

"Oh? Miki, perhaps?" He grinned at her. "Or... I do seem  
to remember you saying something a little while ago about  
preferring girls..."

"Stop it!" She was blushing again.

"Sorry."

"Jerk."

He laughed.

"So," he said after a quiet moment, "am I forgiven?"

"No," she said stonily. "I'm still mad at you. I still  
can't believe you're willingly working for that creepy Chairman.  
But..."

"But what?"

"It's like Tenjou said," she muttered, angry at the  
admission. "Some things haven't changed. You _are_ still my  
brother. And even though I shouldn't, I still love you. Even  
though you're a bastard and an asshole and a jerk. I don't  
_like_ it, but that's the way it is."

Touga closed his eyes and tilted his head back a little.  
"Tenjou's very wise, in her own naive sort of way."

"She can't even see what's under her own nose. The Chairman  
and his sister... disgusting. They're like demons, or  
something."

Touga said nothing.

"What's going to happen to her, anyway?"

He opened his eyes and looked at her with interest. "I  
didn't know you cared."

"I don't," she protested. "I'm just interested. As far as  
I'm concerned, that girl will just get what's coming to her.  
Get sacrificed for the Revolution, or whatever."

"Sacrificed?" He almost sounded concerned.

She tightened her arms around herself. "Kyouichi says this  
has all been like a ritual. And I think he's right. Him, then  
Miki, then Juri, then me, than you... then over again, in the  
same order. So I guess you're next. And then the ritual will be  
over, and it will be time for the sacrifice. I almost feel sorry  
for her."

"I hadn't much thought of it that way," Touga said finally,  
in a very quiet voice.

"Are you going to fight her again?"

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I don't really have much  
choice in the matter if Kyouichi's right, now do I?"

"Maybe there's a way we could stop it. I mean, we could  
tell people. Tell everyone. You could refuse to fight. We  
could tell Tenjou everything--"

"Do you really want to risk the wrath of the Ends of the  
World?" he asked quietly.

She shuddered. "No; no I don't. But--"

"The best thing for you to do now is stay away," he said.  
"Stay well away. I... my part isn't done in this yet, but I  
think yours is. I'll take care of things from now on."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"I wish I could believe you."

"Believe me on this one. I'll do my best to make sure  
everything works out all right."

Nanami let out a yawn she seemed to have been holding in for  
several hours now.

"Tired?"

"Tired, and sore, and still angry with you for everything,  
by the way."

"I'm aware. I won't keep you up any longer." He stood up,  
made as though to move towards the door, then paused. "A kiss  
goodnight, then?"

"I don't want one from you."

"Well... good night, then."

"Hmph."

He turned the lights out and closed the door behind him.

"Jerk."

She flopped down on her side on the bed and found her eyes  
closing almost instantly. I should undress and change into my  
night clothes, she thought. I should crawl under the covers.  
But I am so tired, and those things all would take effort...

Perhaps by now Utena is asleep, facing the Rose Bride in the  
darkness. She has no idea at all about what those two get up to.  
Or maybe she does, and just won't let herself think about it;  
maybe she's like me, a type B, and she gets stuck on the wrong  
ideas really easily. Maybe it's easy for her to lie to herself.  
Tomorrow, I should go to her, and I should say it straight out;  
I shouldn't dance around it like I did before. I should say,  
Tenjou-sempai (I would call her Tenjou-sempai; I would try to be  
sincere in calling her that), I need to tell you some things.  
Some things you should know that are important for your safety.  
The Chairman is... he and his sister... the Ends of the World...  
Oh, why can't I even form the words in my mind? If I could  
string them together in my mind, they would be like an unbroken  
chain of silver and gold, and I would have only to let them come  
forth, without stuttering, without fear... I could write her a  
letter and send it anonymously... but she wouldn't believe an  
anonymous letter... I wouldn't believe an anonymous letter...  
She probably wouldn't even believe me if I could tell her face to  
face... after she tried to be nice to me, in her way, and I just  
threw it back at her... I could go to Miki and Juri, and Kyouichi  
too, and we could all go to her, and tell her the identity of the  
Ends of the World, and then, then, maybe together, all of us  
could fight him, all of us with our swords, or we could run away  
from here together, go far, far away (this bed is a boat, and  
the darkness is the ocean, and the bed is travelling to a land  
where it is always summer), somewhere where the Ends of the World  
could never find us... but he would find us, he would always find  
us... and I can't do these things, because I'm too scared, the  
Chairman and his sister; I saw them together, and there was  
light, such as that which surrounds angels or gods or demons...  
I'm so very afraid. There's nothing I can do. My big brother  
said, I'll do my best to make sure everything works out all  
right. So don't worry, Nanami, because things will be okay,  
everything will be okay; but all shall be well, and oh, poor,  
poor Utena, she'll be okay, won't she, big brother? Yes, Nanami,  
she'll be fine, just go to sleep now, good night, Nanami, and  
here is a good night kiss for you, entirely innocent, just like  
when we were children, so don't worry, Nanami, because all shall  
be well, and everyone, everyone, even Tenjou, even her...

...even her, there will be room...

...even for her...

...so sleep...

..just sleep...

...

END

Notes:

Whew.

More of a novella than a short story, this one turned out to be.

The unseen things in Episodes 31 and 32 have always intrigued me  
by their possibilities. Nanami staying at Miki's place? At  
Juri's place? What went on?

I originally intended this as a Nanami story, something similar  
to "What Is Done"; it became, as I wrote it, a story about all of  
the Student Council. Something obviously occurs to change the  
relationship dynamic between Touga and Saionji between Episode  
25 and Episode 34; something obviously occurs that would explain  
why Shiori looks so pissed at Juri flirting with Utena in Episode  
37\. But what?

Perhaps this got written because after their final duels, the  
Student Council fade a little into the background, as the focus  
of the story tightens and tightens to resolve the triangle of  
Utena, Anthy and Akio, to tell the last story of the Revolution.  
This is natural and necessary from a storytelling perspective...

...but sometimes it leaves those of us who are rabid fanboys of  
various Student Council members feeling a bit unsatisfied. ^_~

I'm a little uncertain about the whole story, particularly the  
ending. Is it too unwieldily to fit within the canon? Are parts  
of it too warm and fuzzy to be plausible? Is it too big for what  
I wanted it to do? 

But no story ends up the way you see it in your head; in your  
head, everything works perfectly. And then you write it down,  
and it doesn't work at all as you'd intended, and...

I'm rambling. I don't tend to ramble this much in my notes.  
So I'll finish up.

This is only a story; it's one facet of a whole gem of  
possibilities. Ambiguity reigns in SKU, which is one of the  
reasons it's such a delight to write for. I'm not saying this is  
how it necessarily happened; I'm not saying this is even  
necessarily a very plausible guess at how it happened; I'm not  
even saying that this is how I believe it happened. It's just  
how the story ended up. Take that as you will.

Kudos for prereading and support on this particular story go to  
Andrew Huang, Sean Gaffney, Mercutio, and Irina Louise Ruden.  
Kudos to the folks on the Fanfic Revolution ML for additional  
extensive commentary. Kudos to all of you for reading to the  
end of these (rather self-indulgent) notes.

And that's all I've got to say for now.

Ciao,  
-Alan Harnum, September 22nd, 2000


End file.
